Qj    0  BROWN 


AT   LOS  ANGELES 


ROBERT 

ERNEST  COWAN 

BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR  : 

i. 

"NOT    MY    WAY";     OR,    GOOD    OUT    OF    EVIL. 

I2IGO.     Cloth $i  oo 

2. 

DOROTHY.     A  TALE.     I2mo.     Cloth i  oo 

THOMAS  WHITTAKER,  Publisher, 

2  &  3  Bible  House,  New  York. 


Chapter  IX. 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA. 


BY 

T.  M.  BROWNE, 

AUTHOR  OF  "Nox   MY   WAY,"  "DOROTHY,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK  : 

THOMAS    WHITTAKER, 

2  &  3  BIBLE  HOUSE. 

1888. 


COPYRIGHT,  1888,  BY 
THOMAS    WHITTAKER. 


PRESS  OF 

JENKINS  &  McCoWAN, 
224-228  Centre  Street,  N.  Y. 


FS 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE  day  had  been  intensely  warm,  with  little 
of  the  ocean-breeze  to  moderate  the  heat  ;  but 
now  the  sun  had  set  behind  the  great  shoulder 
of  the  mountain  to  the  west  of  the  Hermosa 
settlement,  and  in  a  moment,  as  it  seemed,  the 
temperature  fell  and  a  cool  air  sprang  up,  wav 
ing  the  foliage  of  the  eucalyptus  grove  which 
formed  a  semicircle  round  the  upper  portion  of 
the  Musgrove  Ranch. 

It  was  the  principal  ranch  of  the  valley,  with 
the  oldest  and  best  cared  for  orange  groves, 
the  largest  olives,  the  most  umbrageous  fig  and 
walnut  trees.  The  long,  low  house  looked  a 
very  inviting  place,  with  its  broad  piazzas  fes 
tooned  with  a  variety  of  exquisite  creeping 
plants,  and  deeply  shaded  to  the  west  by  an 
enormous  live-oak,  whose  vicinity  had  been 
especially  considered  when  the  house  was  built. 

5 

273795 


6  THE  Q1USGROVE  RANCH. 

The  tree  had  flourished  there  generations 
before  an  American  had  set  foot  in  the  valley  ; 
when  the  Musgrove  Ranch  had  been  a  sheep- 
walk,  and  Mexican  shepherds  had  camped 
many  and  many  a  time  under  the  dark,  wide- 
spreading  branches.  Now,  in  its  old  age,  it  had 
a  lordly  carpet  of  blue  grass  spread  about  its 
feet,  with  groups  of  snow-white  lilies  and  vivid 
geraniums  brightening  its  solemn  shade.  There 
were  garden  seats,  too,  looking  very  modern 
under  the  gnarled  old  branches,  and  here  the 
Musgrove  family  were  seated  this  evening,  as 
was  their  wont. 

The  family  consisted  of  Mrs.  Musgrove,  the 
widowed  mother,  two  handsome,  sunburned 
men,  her  sons,  and  a  slender,  dark-eyed  daugh 
ter. 

"  It  is  too  bad,  Bruce,  that  you  could  not 
find  time  to  drive  over  to  the  station,"  the 
mother  said,  looking  for  the  hundredth  time 
along  the  road  leading  southward  to  the  distant 
railway  station  ;  "  the  poor  girl  will  feel  disap 
pointed  to  have  none  of  her  cousins  come  to 
meet  her.  It  seems  to  me  that  one  or  the  other 
of  you  might  have  gone." 

"  Quite  impossible,  mother  ;  at  least  for  me. 
I  cannot  get  a  day's  work  out  of  the  men  un 
less  I  am  with  them,  and  you  know  we  are  irri- 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  7 

gating  the  upper  olive-patch.  Hugh,  there, 
might  have  gone,  if  he  had  chosen,  as  well  as 
Sandy." 

Hugh  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders,  and  de 
clared  that  he  felt  too  bashful  to  face  his  New 
York  cousin  alone,  and  that  Nettie  had  been 
too  lazy  to  go  with  him. 

"  You  know,  mother,  I  could  not  go  in  the 
scorching  sun,"  exclaimed  the  young  girl  in  an 
injured  tone.  "  Hugh  is  always  ready  to  blame 
me  for  his  shortcomings." 

Hugh  laughed,  and  threw  an  acorn,  which 
had  just  fallen  from  the  branch  above  him,  into 
his  sister's  hair. 

"  I  wonder  what  she  will  be  like  !  "  he  said, 
ignoring  Nettie's  attempt  to  retaliate.  "  If  she 
is  like  uncle  Percy  with  his  overbearing  ways, 
I  shall  have  nothing  to  do  with  her." 

"  Hush,  Hugh,"  said  Mrs.  Musgrove  ;  "  you 
have  no  respect  for  anything." 

"  Isn't  that  the  phaeton  ?  "  said  Nettie,  point 
ing  to  a  small  dark  object  in  the  straight  road, 
which  dwindled  to  a  thread  in  the  distance  as 
it  ran  across  the  "unimproved  "land  southward. 

"  The  phaeton  or  a  Chinese  mule-wagon,"  said 
Hugh  solemnly  as  he  pretended  to  scrutinize 
it.  But  Mrs.  Musgrove,  looking  anxiously  tow-: 
ards  it,  declared  that  she  would  walk  as  far  as 


8  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

the  gates  to  meet  the  carriage,  and  Nettie, 
slipping  her  arm  into  her  mother's,  set  out  with 
her,  while  the  two  young  men,  with  real  or 
affected  indifference,  slowly  rose  and  followed. 

They  were  two  stalwart,  handsome  fellows. 
Indeed,  the  Musgrove  brothers  were  regarded 
by  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  valley  as  par  excel 
lence  the  first  in  all  respects  of  the  young  men 
of  that  locality.  At  the  first  glance  you  would 
have  thought  them  remarkably  like  each  other, 
but,  looking  more  narrowly,  a  marked  difference 
was  discernible.  Bruce,  the  elder,  was  in  every 
way  the  stronger  of  the  two.  There  was  more 
power  in  the  handsome  face  as  well  as  in  the 
firmly  knit  frame,  but  there  was  a  lack  of  the 
careless  grace  and  the  genial  attraction  of  the 
younger  brother. 

Walking  leisurely  along,  stopping  every  now 
and  again  to  note  the  condition  of  some  partic 
ular  tree,  or  the  need  of  attending  to  some 
newly  set  out  sapling,  or  to  turn  a  faucet  which 
let  a  copious  stream  of  water  refresh  some 
thirsty  plant,  the  young  men  reached  the  gates 
in  the  fence  which  marked  the  southern  boun 
dary  of  the  ranch. 

A  group  of  magnificent  pepper-trees  stood 
near  the  gates,  and  on  a  seat  beneath  them 
they  found  their  mother  and  sister. 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  9 

The  phaeton  was  now  a  clearly  defined  ob 
ject,  and  a  feeling  of  expectancy  made  the  four 
persons  silent  for  the  next  ten  minutes. 

Mrs.  Musgrove  was  the  one  most  moved  by 
the  thought  of  meeting  her  niece.  It  was  not 
merely  the  remembrance  of  having  held  her  in 
her  arms  as  a  little  child  which  quickened  her 
pulses  and  brought  tears  into  her  eyes,  but  it 
was  the  sudden,  vivid  image  of  the  old  Eastern 
homestead,  not  seen  for  so  many  years,  and  of 
the  beloved  ones  of  her  youth  and  early  woman 
hood,  so  many  of  whom  had  passed  away  from 
earth  without  a  farewell.  The  young  men  both 
felt  a  greater  interest  than  they  would  have 
confessed,  and  Nettie's  brightening  eyes  and 
flushed  cheeks  showed  that  her  cousin's  advent 
was  certainly  not  a  matter  of  indifference. 

At  last  the  wheels  sounded  distinctly  on  the 
sun-baked  road,  and  in  a  few  moments  more 
the  carriage  stopped.  Bruce  opened  wide  the 
gates,  while  Hugh  hastened  to  help  the  traveler 
to  alight. 

A  slender  girl  in  a  traveling  dress  of  severe 
simplicity,  and  with  a  paleface  much  concealed 
by  a  gray  veil — such  was  the  first  sight  of  Ada 
Selwyn  which  greeted  the  gaze  of  the  Musgrove 
family. 

She   seemed    to    turn    instinctively   to    the 


IO  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

mother,  and  in  an  instant  Mrs.  Musgrove  held 
her  very  fondly  in  her  arms,  all  the  yearning 
tenderness  for  the  old,  far-off  home  expressing 
itself  in  the  kiss  which  the  older  woman  be 
stowed  on  her  young  relative. 

"  These  are  your  cousins,  my  dear,"  she  said, 
still  half  embracing  her.  "  Bruce,  my  eldest  son, 
Hugh,  and  Nettie." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  all,"  said  the  girl, 
looking  from  one  to  another,  and  giving  her 
hand  to  each. 

A  pair  of  clear  gray  eyes  seemed  to  take  note 
of  the  three  faces,  and  the  voice  was  quiet  and 
self-possessed. 

Then,  amid  explanations  and  excuses  from 
Mrs.  Musgrove,  the  party  turned  towards  the 
house,  the  carriage  having  been  sent  on  with 
Miss  Selwyn's  luggage.  >_ 

The  arrival  of  an  entirely  new  element  in  a 
household  where  there  has  been  little  or  no 
change  for  years,  is  always  epoch-making.  I 
mean,  of  course,  when  the  person  newly  added 
has  a  distinct  individuality  ;  and  that  such  was 
the  case  with  Ada  Selwyn,  each  member  of  the 
Musgrove  family  was  from  the  first  more  or 
less  conscious. 

When  the  evening  was  over,  none  of  the  fam 
ily  except  Mrs.  Musgrove  had  quite  decided  as 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  \  \ 

to  whether  the  stranger  cousin  had  impressed 
them  favorably  or  otherwise  :  Bruce  observing 
her  from  the  standpoint  of  his  unquestioned 
headship  and  superiority  ;  Hugh,  from  that  of 
the  admired  and  coveted  cavalier  of  all  the 
young  ladies  of  his  acquaintance;  Nettie,  with 
somewhat  of  the  feeling  which  makes  many 
girls  look  at  others  as  their  possible  rivals. 

True,  Nettie  was  without  doubt  a  very  pretty 
girl,  and  in  that  respect  there  could  be  no  ques 
tion  of  rivalry;  but  there  was  a  certain  air  of 
quiet,  highbred  savoir  vivre  in  Ada  Selwyn, 
the  natural  outcome  of  a  youth  spent  in  the 
centres  of  civilization  and  in  a  refined  and  in 
tellectual  companionship,  which  made  itself 
felt  and  gave  Nettie  a  sensation  of  uneasiness. 

Ada  was  too  tired  from  her  long,  fatiguing 
journey  to  do  much  more  than  answer  her 
aunt's  questions  about  old  friends  and  places. 

She  was  very  thankful  to  have  arrived  in 
safety,  very  glad  to  see  the  aunt  and  cousins, 
her  nearest  of  kin  now,  of  whom  she  had 
heard  and  thought  since  she  could  remember 
anything,  and  yet  naturally  somewhat  reserved, 
being  practically  among  strangers. 

It  was  still  quite  early  when  she  succumbed 
to  her  weariness  and  asked  to  be  excused. 

"To-morrow,  dear   auntie,"  she  said,  "  vou 


12  THE  M USG ROVE  RANCH. 

will  find  me  I  hope  not  quite  so  stupid,  and  bet 
ter  able  to  tell  you  all  you  want  to  know.  No, 
please,  you  must  not  come  with  me.  I  know 
the  way  already." 

And  with  a  pleasant  smile  and  general  "  good 
night "  she  vanished. 

It  had  long  since  grown  to  be  the  blessed 
habit  of  Ada  Selwyn's  life  to  pour  out  her  heart 
in  prayer  to  the  Almighty  and  All  Merciful 
One.  Shortcomings  and  sorrows  and  aspira 
tions  ;  intercessions  for  beloved  ones  and  for 
all  the  sinning  and  the  sad — all  was  brought 
before  Him  who  can  be  touched  with  our  infirm 
ities.  And  to-night,  kneeling  by  the  snow- 
white,  inviting  bed  in  the  pretty  room  which 
her  aunt's  affectionate  care  had  prepared  for 
her,  meekly  and  simply,  as  a  little  child,  she 
offered  up  her  prayer  and  praise,  then,  with  a 
grateful  sense  of  His  ever-present  love,  she  laid 
her  head  upon  the  pillow  and  fell  into  a  deep 
delicious  slumber. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FARM  hands  turning  out  for  their  day's  work, 
a  heavy  team  passing  at  a  little  distance,  and 
the  general  stir  which  ushers  in  the  day  on  a 
large  ranch  awoke  Ada  on  the  following  morn 
ing,  rested  and  refreshed.  She  lay  for  a  few 
moments  gathering  up  the  threads  of  her  last 
eveningss  experience,  and  realizing  that  she  had 
entered  upon  a  new  chapter  in  her  life. 

The  bustle  had  subsided,  and  in  the  compar 
ative  stillness  that  followed  a  mocking-bird  on 
a  tree  close  by  burst  forth  into  a  very  ecstasy 
of  song.  The  sun  had  not  yet  risen,  but  the 
wonderful  light,  of  dawn  lay  on  everything, 
when  Ada  leaned  from  her  window  and  looked 
out  upon  her  new  world.  She  saw  how  match 
less  in  their  beauty  were  the  mountains  which, 
even  as  she  looked,  passed  from  solemn  shadow 
into  a  pearly  loveliness,  and  then,  as  the  sun 
emerged  from  the  Eastern  hills,  flushed  into 
tints  of  amethyst  and  rose.  She  could  not  look 
away  until  the  first  glory  had  faded  out  and 
day  had  fairly  asserted  itself ;  then  her  eyes 
13 


14  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

wandered  over  the  wide  valley  with  its  scatter 
ed  ranches,  some  with  goodly  groves  of  fruit 
trees,  others  but  just  struggling  into  existence, 
and  again  great  stretches  of  barren  land,  seamed 
here  and  there  by  the  stony  river-beds,  now 
completely  dry,  but  along  whose  banks  some 
scattered  sycamores  or  wil!6ws  attested  to  the 
presence  of  water  through  a  portion  of  the  year. 
It  was  a  relief  to  turn  from  that  part  of  the 
prospect  to  the  flourishing  ranch  immediately 
surrounding  her.  Everything,  even  to  an  expe 
rienced  eye,  evinced  care  and  prosperity,  and 
the  spirit  of  order  was  as  plainly  visible  as  that 
a  sense  of  the  beautiful  had  had  a  large  part  in 
the  planning  and  planting  of  the  Musgrove 
Ranch. 

The  sight  of  Nettie  in  the  simplest  and  fresh 
est  of  morning  gowns,  with  a  large  light  basket 
of  grain  for  her  chickens,  gave  the  finishing 
touch  to  the  attractive  scene,  and  Ada  hastened 
to  join  her  cousin,  who  greeted  her  affectionately. 

"  Do  let  me  go  with  you  to  the  chickens," 
said  Ada  ;  "  you  do  not  know  how  I  shall  enjoy 
everything  about  your  country  life,  which  has 
the  added  charm  here  of  perfect  novelty." 

Nettie  laughed. 

"  I  hope  you  will  never  get  half  as  tired  of  it 
as  I  often  am,"  she  said.  "  I  have  wished 


THE  MUSG ROVE  RANCH.  15 

thousands  of  times  that  I  could  change  places 
with  you.  The  very  name  of  New  York  has 
often  made  me  envy  you.  Only  think  of  my 
never  having  even  seen  San  Francisco  since  I 
was  a  child  !" 

Her  cousin  looked  at  her  reflectively.  "  How 
strange  it  is  that  people  are  so  seldom  satisfied 
with  their  lot !  I,  on  the  other  hand,  would 
sometimes  willingly  have  changed  places  with 
you — or,  rather,  I  often  wished  to  be  here  with 
you  all.  From  the  descriptions  I  had  read, 
Southern  California  seemed  a  kind  of  Eldorado,* 
and  I  have  always  had  a  great  desire  to  travel, 
which  has  seldom  been  gratified.  Then  there 
was  the  great  attraction  of  seeing  you  all  face 
to  face." 

"  Well,  I  am  sure  we  were  all  delighted  when 
we  heard  you  were  really  coming, "  said  Net 
tie,  graciously.  "  And  now  that  you  are  here,  I 
hope  you  won't  be  dreadfully  disappointed  with 
us  all."  She  looked  so  pretty  and  so  pleasant 
that  Ada  involuntarily  answered  by  a  kiss, 
which  Nettie  accepted  as  a  tribute  to  her  at 
tractions,  and  which  made  her  feel  still  more 
cordially  disposed  to  her  cousin. 

Together  they  fed  the  chickens  and  gathered 
some  flowers  ;  the  beauty  and  profusion  of  the 
latter  drew  many  exclamations  of  delight  from 


1 6  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

Ada.  Then  turning  t6wards  the  house-,  they  met 
Bruce  coming  in  quest  of  them. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  Cousin  Ada  can  get 
up  early,"  he  said,  holding  out  a  strong,  brown 
hand,  which  formed  an  almost  amusing  contrast 
in  size  and  color  to  hers.  "  Life  would  not  be 
worth  living  here  without  the  morning  hours. 
What  do  you  think  of  our  ranch  ?"  he  asked, 
with  a  slight  gesture  of  his  hand  which  seemed 
to  denote  conscious  ownership.  "  How  does  it 
look  to  Eastern  eyes  ?" 

"  I  have  been  studying  it  from  my  window," 
she  replied,  "  and  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much 
I  admire  it.  It  must  be  the  result  of  so  much 
energy  and  patience,  and  it  shows  such  a  sense 
of  fitness  and  beauty." 

Bruce  felt  himself  color  to  the  roots  of  his 
hair  with  gratification.  Ada  had  spoken  with 
such  conviction,  and  the  praise  of  his  ranch 
was  almost  as  sweet  to  Bruce  as  the  praise  of  a 
child  is  to  its  mother.  Ambition  was  almost  a 
passion  in  this  young  man,  and  the  circum 
stances  of  his  life  seemed  to  have  denied  it  any 
other  channel.  To  be  owner  of  the  most  ex 
tensive  and  successful  ranch  of  the  Hermosa 
Valley  had  been  his  main  object  in  life,  since 
his  father's  death  had  left  him,  a  mere  stripling, 
head  of  his  family. 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  \  J 

"  You  must  not  praise  Bruce  too  much,"  said 
Nettie,  mischievously;  "it  does  not  agree  with 
him.  He  might  come,  in  time,  to  believe  him 
self  Emperor  of  California,  or  some  such  thing. 
We  are  all  dreadfully  afraid  of  him  as  it  is." 

"  It  was  not  Bruce,  but  the  ranch  which  I  was 
praising,"  laughed  Ada.  "Are  they  supposed 
to  be  one  and  the  same  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  will  soon  find  that  out  ;  I  have 
given  up  thinking  of  them  separately." 

Nettie  did  not  often  venture  to  tease  her 
elder  brother,  of  whom  she  was  quite  right  in 
saying  that  his  family  stood  somewhat  in  awe, 
but  she  felt  just  now  that  Ada's  presence  was  a 
safeguard.  He  did  not  condescend  to  reply, 
but,  addressing  Ada,  proposed  that  she  should 
take  a  drive  after  breakfast.  "  I  have  kept  my 
self  disengaged  this  morning,  thinking  that  you 
might  like  a  drive  round  the  place,  that  is  if 
you  are  rested;  "  a.nd  Ada  gladly  acquiesced. 

It  was  the  prettiest  breakfast-table,  Ada 
thought,  that  she  had  ever  seen.  The  snowy 
linen  and  Mrs.  Musgrove's  beloved  old  family 
china  were  set  off  by  the  most  delicious  and 
fragrant  fruit  and  flowers,  not  to  speak  of  the 
abundant  and  excellently  prepared  substantials 
of  the  meal. 

But  there  was  one  thing  which  jarred  strange- 


ig  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

ly  upon  the  new  member  of  the  household. 
She  had  never,  as  far  back  as  she  could  remem 
ber,  sat  down  at  a  family  board  at  which  no 
blessing  had  been  asked  from  the  Giver  of  all 
good.  It  was  evident,  however,  that  such  was 
not  the  custom  here.  Ada  stood  hesitating  for 
a  moment,  and  Mrs.  Musgrove,  misunderstand 
ing  her  questioning  look,  pointed  to  a  seat 
beside  her. 

"  I  am  going  to  have  my  new  daughter  at  my 
right  hand,"  she  said  affectionately,  "  and  Net 
tie  at  my  left." 

Ada  bent  her  head  and  sent  up  silently  the 
brief  prayer  which  she  had  been  taught  as  a 
child. 

"  I  thought  of  taking  the  double-seated  car 
riage  and  all  going  together,"  said  Mrs.  Mus 
grove,  when  Ada  mentioned  the  intended  drive, 
"  but  Bruce's  horse,  Aleppo,  is  a  splendid  crea 
ture,  and  you  would  enjoy  a  ride  behind  him 
more — that  is,  my  dear,  if  you  are  not  easily 
frightened.  Bruce  tells  me  he  has  no  ugly  tricks, 
but  I  confess  that  I  have  not  the  nerve  to  drive 
with  him." 

"  The  fact  is,  mother  is  only  happy  when  she 
is  driving  in  her  old  buggy,  with  a  horse  that . 
has  been  past  work  these  ten  years,"  said  Hugh, 
in  good-natured  mockery.    "  I  only  hope  she 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  ig 

won't  want  to  treat  you  very  often  to  her  own 
special  comfort — three  miles  an  hour  at  his 
best — with  Ichabod  !  " 

"Only  think,  my  dear,  Hugh  insists  on  call 
ing  my  poor  old  Billy  IcJiabod,  which  means,  I 
believe,  that  his  glory  has  departed.  Well,  any 
how,  he  is  a  great  comfort  to  me  !  " 

Ada  could  not  help  laughing  too. 

"  Well,  Auntie,  I  shall  look  forward  to  many 
a  cosy  chat  with  you,  in  company  with  Billy, 
and  I  am  very  fond  of  old  horses,  so  shall  not 
speak  disrespectfully  of  the  poor  fellow." 

"  I  hope  you  won't  despise  Aleppo  on  account 
of  his  youth,"  said  Bruce. 

"  No,  indeed;  but  I  must  warn  you  that  I  am 
not  such  a  strong-minded  female  as  to  be  above 
fear." 

"  There  is  no  occasion  for  any.  Come  and 
look  at  him  ;  I  see  Sandy  has  the  buggy  ready 
for  us." 

Aleppo  was  certainly  a  magnificent  creature, 
unsurpassed  in  the  country  for  beauty  of  form 
and  fleetness,  and,  though  nervous  and  high- 
strung,  as  a  thoroughbred  is  wont  to  be,  yet 
quite  under  the  control  of  his  cool-headed  and 
strong-handed  master. 

Ada  was  charmed  with  him.  She  patted  his 
dark,  glossy  neck  with  the  smallest  and  whitest 


2O  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

hand  which  the  Musgrove  Ranch  had  ever  seen, 
and  looked  at  him  so  affectionately  and  admir 
ingly,  that  he  stooped  his  stately  head  towards 
her,  as  if  i-n  recognition  of  her  advances. 

Ada  will  never  forget  her  first  drive  in  Cali 
fornia.  The  morning  was  perfect.  It  was  still 
so  early  that  the  heavy  foliage  of  the  trees  was 
dripping  with  dew  which  had  gathered  on  them 
through  the  night.  The  roads  through  the 
ranch  were  kept  constantly  watered,  so  that 
the  dust,  the  great  drawback  to  summer  driv 
ing  in  Southern  California,  was  kept  completely 
under.  Aleppo  sniffed  the  morning  breeze,  as 
though  enjoying  it  to  the  full,  and  almost  flew, 
as  it  seemed  to  Ada,  along  the  firm,  smooth 
ways  between  ranks  of  eucalyptus,  willows,  and 
exquisite  pepper-trees,  which  in  places  almost 
met  overhead.  On  either  hand  extended  groves 
of  oranges,  lemons,  and  almost  every  variety 
of  fruit — everything  in  a  perfect  state  of  order 
and  cultivation.  Then,  at  the  end  of  the  long, 
green  vistas,  the  mountains  in  their  morning 
radiance  were  everywhere  visible.  The  whole 
thing  was  so  new  and  so  beautiful,  the  perfume 
of  the  flowers,  groups  and  beds  of  which  seemed 
scattered  everywhere,  was  so  delightful,  the 
glimpse  of  deep  blue  sky,  and  the  shafts  of 
golden  sunlight  so  dazzling,  that  the  city-bred, 


THE  M USG ROVE  RANCH.  21 

Eastern  girl  who  had,  as  it  were,  hitherto, 
worshiped  nature  afar  off,  felt  absolutely 
charmed. 

Bruce  Musgrove  in  his  strong  manhood,  with 
his  serious,  clean-cut,  handsome  face,  and  the 
brown  shapely  hand  upon  the  reins,  made  part 
of  the  enjoyment. 

They  did  not  speak  much,  but  Bruce  felt  in 
stinctively  how  greatly  she  enjoyed  it  ;  and  for 
him  too  the  drive  possessed  a  pleasure  hitherto 
not  experienced.  He  drove  his  cousin  around 
to  where  his  laborers  were  irrigating  the  fruit 
groves,  and,  in  another  place,  were  clearing  an 
addition  recently  made  to  the  ranch,  and  briefly 
and  clearly  explained  everything  she  wished  to 
understand. 

Then,  when  they  had  made  the  entire  cir 
cuit  of  the  ranch,  he  turned  Aleppo's  head  tow 
ards  the  mountains,  and  they  drove  over  the 
dry,  arid-looking  plains,  which  gradually  sloped 
upwards  to  the  "  foot-hills,"  or  low  spurs  of  the 
Sierras. 

"  We  have  a  canon  yonder,"  he  said,  point 
ing  to  what  looked  like  a  black  shadow  on  the 
mountain-side.  u  I  must  take  you  to  see  it  some 
other  time.  To-day  you  shall  just  enjoy  the 
view  over  the  valley." 

When  they  had  reached  the  foot-hills  even 


22  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

Aleppo  seemed  disposed  to  rest  for  awhile,  for 
he  had  scarcely  slackened  his  great  speed  up 
the  long  incline.  Bruce  drove  into  the  deep 
shade  of  a  group  of  live-oaks  and  turned  the 
horse's  head  southward. 

"  O,  Bruce,  how  beautiful  !"  exclaimed  Ada. 
"  I  am  glad  we  did  not  once  look  back  in  driv 
ing  up.  You  can  scarcely  imagine  what  this  is 
to  me." 

"  I  think  I  can,"  he  answered,  with  the  half 
smile  which  she  had  already  noticed. 

The  homeward  drive  seemed  best  of  all,  for 
Aleppo  fairly  outdid  himself,  as  if  to  impress 
his  magnificent  qualities  on  the  new  member  of 
the  family.  Bruce  helped  Ada  to  alight,  then, 
springing  into  the  buggy  again,  went  to  direct 
his  men  at  their  work.  Hugh  in  his  cool  work 
ing  costume  was  pruning  trees,  Nettie  resting 
with  a  novel  in  a  hammock. 


CHAPTER  III. 

LIFE  at  the  Musgrove  Ranch  speedily  grew 
to  have  a  fascination  for  Ada  Selwyn.  Novelty 
has  a  great  charm  to  young  minds,  and  the 
girl's  nature  was  so  sound  and  wholesome  that 
the  simple  pleasures  which  her  new  home 
afforded  were  enjoyed  with  a  zest  which  could 
not  but  be  gratifying  to  her  hosts.  That  first 
delightful  drive  with  Bruce  was  followed  by 
others,  some  with  him  alone,  behind  his  fleet 
and  fiery  Aleppo,  some  in  the  family  carriage, 
to  one  or  another  point  of  special  attraction,  or 
to  visit  friends  whose  homes  lay,  for  the  most 
part,  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  Mus 
grove  Ranch. 

These  were  generally  very  pleasant  people 
who  had  brought  with  them,  from  their  Eastern 
homes,  the  habits  and  amenities  of  social  life, 
and  who  succeeded  in  getting  a  good  deal  of 
enjoyment  out  of  a  life  which  might  otherwise 
have  grown  monotonous  and  narrowing.  The 
young  people  had  a  tennis  club,  riding  parties, 
and — best  of  all,  Ada  thought — occasional  boat- 
23 


24  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

ing  excursions,  for  the  Pacific  was  not  many 
miles  distant. 

The  nearest  town  was  a  small  and,  it  must 
be  confessed,  a  very  unattractive  one,  named 
Caliente.  A  few  days  after  Ada  arrived  they 
drove  through  it  on  their  way  to  a  friend's 
ranch,  and  Ada  was  disagreeably  impressed  by 
the  untidy  dwellings,  the  uncared  for  streets, 
and  the  enormous  proportion  of  saloons  which 
flaunted  their  bold  fronts  at  every  corner. 

As  they  drove  rapidly  through  the  place, 
Bruce,  glancing  at  his  cousin's  face,  saw  a  ques 
tion  there,  before  it  had  framed  itself  upon  her 
lips. 

"  Where  do  you  go  to  church  ?"  she  said.  "  I 
have  thought  each  day  of  asking  you,  and  yet 
have  never  done  so." 

She  looked  at  Bruce  as  she  spoke,  and 
then  something  she  could  not  decipher  in  his 
face  made  her  look  in  turn  at  each  of  the 
others. 

Just  for  a  moment  there  was  a  curious,  embar 
rassed  silence.  Bruce's  lips  wore  a  little  sneer 
ing  smile,  Hugh  laughed  carelessly,  Nettie 
became  suddenly  interested  in  buttoning  her 
gloves,  and  Mrs.  Musgrove  colored  quite  pain 
fully,  as  she  answered  : 

"  Well,  really,  my  dear,  I  cannot  say  that  of 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


25 


late  years  we  have  gone  to  church  at  all.  You 
see — " 

"  Not  gone  to  church  at  all  !"  exclaimed  Ada  ; 
and  the  unfeigned  astonishment,  not  to  say 
consternation,  quite  altered  the  character  of 
her  face.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  dear  auntie," 
she  went  on  hastily  ;  "  I  did  not  realize  that  you 
might  be  out  of  reach  of  the  services  of  the 
Church.  Of  course  I  ought  to  have  been  pre 
pared  for  it,  but  yet  I  can  hardly  understand 
how — in  all  this  valley — " 

"  We  must  not  let  you  remain  under  a  false 
impression,"  said  Bruce,  and  there  was  a  harsh 
ring  in  his  voice  which  was  new  to  Ada;  "  Mo 
ther  did  not  say  there  was  no  church  to  go  to  ; 
she  only  said  we  did  not  go  to  it.  I  think  you 
can  see  it  from  here.  Do  you  see  that  place 
that  looks  like  a  barn,  with  a  cross  on  the  end, 
there,  next  to  that  tobacco  shop  ?"  and  he 
pointed  with  his  whip  up  a  street  at  right  an 
gles  from  the  one  down  which  they  were  driv 
ing  ;  "that,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  the  Episcopal 
church  of  Caliente." 

There  was  a  touch  of  mockery  in  his  manner 
as  he  checked  his  horses  in  order  to  let  Ada 
have  a  better  view. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  so  quietly  that  one 
must  have  known  her  very  well  to  have  detect- 


26  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

ed  any  pain  in  the  tone  ;    "  and  have  you  a 
clergyman  living  here  ?" 

"  Of  that  I  am  not  so  sure.  There  is  another 
little  town,  Graceville,  over  yonder,  about  six 
miles,  and  I  think  I  have  heard  that  Mr.  Ash- 
leigh  divides  himself  between  the  two  places." 

"  Then  you  do  not  know  when  services  are 
held  here  ? " 

"  I  do  not." 

"  Would  you  mind  stopping  for  a  moment  to 
find  out  for  me  ?  " 

Bruce  Musgrove  could  frown,  and  when  he 
did  so  his  face  grew  quite  cold  and  harsh.  Ada 
caught  the  look. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you,"  she  said  quietly, 
"but  I  must  really  know  about  the  services." 

"  Get  down,  Hugh,  and  find  out  if  you  can," 
said  Bruce;  and  Hugh  sprang  out  with  a  quiz 
zical  expression,  and  disappeared  in  the  near 
est  store,  while  his  brother  first  touched  the 
horses  with  the  whip  and  then  checked  them 
so  suddenly  as  to  rouse  their  indignation  and 
make  them  very  restive.  Their  master  mut 
tered  a  little  angrily,  otherwise  the  party  sat 
quite  silent  until  Hugh  reappeared  with  a  card 
in  his  fingers,  which  he  presented  with  a  low 
bow  to  his  cousin.  It  contained  a. short,  printed 
notice  of  the  services  of  the  Mission  Chapel  of 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  2J 

St.  Stephen,  Caliente.  Missionary,  the  Rev. 
Eustace  Ashleigh.  Below  were  the  words, 
"Lo,  I  am  with  you  always." 

"  Thank  you  so  much,  Hugh,"  said  Ada.  She 
read  the  card,  and  then  carefully  placed  it  in 
her  purse.  It  was  only  too  evident  that  the 
matter  was  of  no  interest  to  the  others. 

Thus,  in  a  point  of  the  most  vital  interest  to 
Ada,  a  discord  had  sprung  up  which  marred 
the  harmony  of  her  new  surroundings.  True, 
she  had  had  already,  more  than  once,  a  sort  of 
premonition  that  in  her  religious  life  she  would 
not  find  the  sympathy  she  had  anticipated 
from  her  relatives,  but  she  had  not  allowed  her 
self  to  entertain  the  thought.  There  is  often  a 
peculiar  reticence,  especially  in  the  young,  in 
religious  matters — a  shamefacedness  which  pre 
vents  people  from  speaking  to  one  another  of 
what  should  be,  and  often  is,  of  the  deepest  im 
portance  to  themselves,  and  Ada  had  hoped> 
upon  a  longer  acquaintance,  to  find  that  her 
cousins  were  in  the  main  in  accord  with  her. 
It  was  no  small  shock  to  one  of  her  training 
and  principles  to  find  that  there  really  existed 
a  vast  difference  between  them. 

Had  she  been  less  self-possessed,  it  would 
have  been  almost  impossible  to  refrain  from 
some  expression  of  regret  or  disappointment, 


28  THE  MUSGROVR  RANCH. 

but  the  face  she  turned  towards  her  aunt 
was  just  a  trifle  ^>aler  and  less  smiling,  that 
was  all.  She  saw,  however,  an  expression 
of  annoyance  or  distress  in  Mrs.  Musgrove's 
kind  eyes,  which  made  her,  by  an  effort,  dispel 
her  own.  This  was  not  the  time  or  place  to 
speak  of  what  lay  nearest  to  her  heart. 

"  Auntie,"  she  said,  laying  her  little  deli 
cately  gloved  hand  upon  her  arm,  "  when  are 
you  and  I  to  have  a  quiet  jaunt  together  with 
poor  old  Billy  ?  These  fiery  steeds  of  Bruce's 
are  not  good  for  your  nerves,  I  see." 

"  Have  you  seen  Ichabod  ? "  asked  Hugh,  be 
fore  his  mother  could  reply.  "  Do  you  think 
you  will  enjoy  him  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  have  visited  the  stables,  and  I  think 
him  a  very  respectful  looking,  nice  old  horse," 
said  Ada,  "  and  it  is  a  sign  of  your  lack  of  ven 
eration,  Hugh,  that  you  should  ridicule  him." 

A  little  good-natured  banter  soon  put  the 
shadow  to  flight  which  had  come  between  Ada 
and  her  relatives.  Bruce  was  the  last  to  join  in 
the  renewed  conversation. 

As  they  drove  out  of  the  town,  Ada  noticed 
a  small,  rude  house  standing  apart  in  a  well- 
kept  garden.  A  group  of  eucalyptus- trees 
shaded  it  from  the  western  sun,  and  a  veranda 
to  the  east  was  thickly  covered  with  beautiful 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  29 

climbing  plants.  Near  a  window  opening  upon 
it  a  young  woman  was  sitting,  or,  rather,  reclin 
ing,  in  a  large  easy-chair,  and  the  head  and 
shoulders  of  a  man,  stooping  over  a  book,  could 
be  seen  in  the  background.  Ada  was  the  only 
one  of  the  party  who  noticed  these  objects,  but 
the  slight  glimpse  she  had,  as  they  passed  rap 
idly,  settled  the  question  in  her  mind  as  to 
where  the  Rev.  Eustace  Ashleigh  resided.  She 
said  nothing,  but  took  good  note  of  the  locality, 
determining  within  herself  that  she  would  see 
it  soon  again  and  make  acquaintance  with  the 
persons  residing  there. 

The  ranch  to  which  Ada  was  introduced  that 
day  gave  her  another  aspect  of  California.  The 
house  was  large  and  handsome,  and  stood  in  a 
green  island,  as  it  were,  surrounded,  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach,  by  a  sea  of  ripening  grain. 
The  land  was  gently  undulating,  and  as  the 
breeze  which  came  direct  from  the  ocean,  not 
many  miles  distant,  swept  over  the  swaying, 
heavily  eared  wheat,  the  effect  was  beautiful  in 
the  extreme.  To  Ada  the  sight  was  strangely 
exhilarating.  As  they  reached  the  top  of  a 
long  incline  from  which  the  full  view  of  that 
vast  harvest  broke  upon  her,  the  cloudless  sky 
bending  over  it,  an  emblem  of  the  boundless 
love  of  the  great  Father,  the  girl  involuntarily 


30  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH, 

clasped  her  hands  in  a  thrill  of  pure  enjoy 
ment. 

"  It  is  a  fine  sight, "said  Bruce  appreciatively. 

"  I  like  it  best  when  the  grain  is  cut,"  said 
Nettie  ;  "  we  have  some  splendid  riding  parties 
over  these  slopes." 

The  immediate  surroundings  of  the  house 
were  beautiful,  full  of  verdure  and  flowers;  and 
the  warm  welcome  which  the  party  received 
made  a  charming  termination  to  the  drive. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  next  day  was  Sunday,  which  was  ob 
served  at  the  Musgrove  Ranch  as  a  day  of  rest 
and  ease.  Bruce  Musgrove,  as  a  practical  man, 
was  fully  alive  to  the  fact  that  one  day  in  seven 
was  absolutely  needful  in  which  to  unbend  from 
the  daily  strain  of  labor  and  care.  His  farm 
laborers  were  required  to  do  nothing  that  was 
not  absolutely  needful,  and  such  duties  were  to 
be  taken  in  turn.  With  the  exception  of  the 
cook  and  Mrs.  Musgrove  herself,  the  household 
indulged  in  a  dolce  far  niente.  Bruce,  whose 
active  mind  and  habits  incapacitated  him  from 
enjoying  such  "  sweet  idleness  "  to  the  full,  was 
the  first  up,  and  usually  took  a  solitary  stroll 
about  his  property  before  the  late  breakfast,  at 
which  Nettie  and  Hugh  appeared.  The  Sun 
day  meals  were  especially  excellent.  Mrs. 
Musgrove  had  come  by  degrees  to  feel  that  she 
was  performing  a  sort  of  religious  duty  in  de 
voting  peculiar  thought  and  care  to  the  prep 
aration  of  these  Sunday  repasts.  The  after 
noon  was  mostly  devoted  to  a  drive  or  a  visit, 


32  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

the  evenings  by  Nettie  and  Hugh  to  music,  by 
Bruce  to  reading,  chiefly  scientific. 

On  this  particular  Sunday,  Ada  Selwyn's  first 
at  the  ranch,  Bruce  was  up  even  earlier  than 
usual,  but  he  was  not  the  first  to  rise  in  the 
household.  Ada  had  risen  soon  after  the 
morning  sunlight  had  crept  through  her  cur 
tains,  and,  not  long  afterwards,  tapped  gently 
at  her  aunt's  door. 

"  Why,  Ada,  dear  child,  what  is  the  matter  ?" 
said  Mrs.  Musgrove,  who  was  meditating  a 
short  nap  before  rising. 

"  Nothing  is  the  matter,  Auntie,"  said  the 
young  girl,  stooping  to  kiss  her — and  then, 
seating  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  she 
smoothed  the  soft,  gray  hair  off  the  elder  wo 
man's  forehead — "  only  I  have  come  to  ask  a 
favor  of  you  this  morning." 

"  Anything  in  the  world  that  I  can  do  for 
you." 

"  I  want  you  to  lend  me  Billy  and  your  own 
buggy,  to  drive  to  Caliente,  to  service." 

The  worried  look  that  Ada  had  seen  in  her 
aunt's  eyes  the  day  before  came  back. 

"  My  dear — really — of  course  you  can  have 
Billy — but  it  scarcely  seems  right  that  you 
should  drive  alone — and  Billy  is  exceedingly 
slow.  Now,  if  Bruce — " 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  33 

"  Don't  trouble  about  Bruce,  auntie,  or  about 
me  !  Billy  will  take  me  safely,  and  I  am  sure 
Hugh  gives  him  a  worse  character  than  he  de 
serves.  I  shall  start  early,  so  as  to  be  sure  of 
being  in  time." 

"  But  you  cannot  go  without  your  breakfast, 
child—" 

"With  your  permission,  I  am  going  to  the 
pantry,  where  I  shall  find  all  the  breakfast  I 
need." 

"  But  are  there  any  of  the  men  about,  to  har 
ness  Billy  for  you  ?  Really,  Ada,  I  cannot  quite 
approve — " 

"  O  yes,  you  can,  you  dear,  good  auntie,  and 
some  time — soon — who  knows  ? — you  will  drive 
with  me  to  church." 

"Ah,  well,  Ada;  the  time  was  when  I  felt 
just  as  you  do,  but  the  circumstances  of  my  life 
have  been  such — but — there — I  do  not  mean 
that.  I  cannot  really  excuse  myself." 

The  color  had  risen  slowly  in  her  face  while 
speaking,  and  Ada,  who  at  the  first  moment 
of  their  meeting  loved  her  gentle-natured 
aunt  very  dearly,  laid  her  soft  cheek  beside 
hers. 

"  Dear  Auntie,  we  will  speak  of  it  another 
time.  I  love  you  so  well  that  you  will  not  mind 
my  speaking  of  what  is  in  my  heart." 


34  THE  MUSGROVE  KANCff. 

Mrs.  Musgrove's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and 
she  stroked  Ada's  hand  tenderly. 

"  And  now  I  am  going  to  hunt  up  Sandy,  or 
some  one,  and  if  I  don't  find  them  I  shall  try 
my  hand  at  harnessing  Billy  myself." 

She  smiled  gaily,  kissed  her  aunt  good-bye, 
and  was  gone. 

Sandy  was  a  grim-looking  old  Scotchman, 
who  had  been  in  the  Musgrove  family  before 
Bruce  was  born  ;  cross-grained  enough  at 
times,  but  true  as  steel.  Sandy  was  a  Scotch 
Presbyterian,  and  traveled  once  a  month  full 
twenty  miles  to  attend  service  at  the  nearest 
Presbyterian  church.  He  had  a  deep-seated 
prejudice  against  the  "  Prelatists,"  as  he  would 
have  called  the  Episcopalians,  and,  therefore, 
though  a  strict  Sabbatarian  himself,  looked 
upon  the  lax  observance  of  the  day  in  the 
family  which  he  had  served  so  long,  as  scarcely 
less  objectionable  than  their  attending  their 
own  worship.  Sandy  was  gently  whistling  an 
ancient  psalm-tune  to  himself  as  he  entered 
the  stable-yard,  when  he  was  almost  surprised 
out  of  himself  by  the  sight  of  Ada  Selwyn.  He 
stopped  his  whistling  and  took  off  his  weather- 
stained  old  cap  as  she  came  up  to  him,  looking 
so  fresh  and  fair  in  her  sweet  dignity. 

"  Good  morning,  Sandy." 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


35 


"Good  morning,  ma'am." 

"  I  want  you,  if  you  please,  to  harness  Billy 
to  Mrs.  Musgrove's  buggy  for  me.  I  am  going 
to  drive  to  Caliente." 

"  By  yourself,  ma'am  ?" 

"Yes,  Sandy;  I  am  quite  a  good  driver." 

A  slow  smile  rose  to  Sandy's  lips. 

"  You  had  need  to  be,  ma'am,  if  you  are  going 
to  drive  Billy.  Hadn't  I  better  put  in  Charlie, 
Miss  Nettie's  horse  ?  He  is  a  good  traveler — 
or,  maybe,  Master  Bruce — " 

"  No,  thank  you,  Sandy,  I  would  rather  have 
Billy — I  can  take  my  time." 

So  Sandy,  revolving  the  matter  much  in  his 
own  mind,  harnessed  Billy,  and  having  taken 
care  to  supply  Ada  with  a  good  whip,  and  held 
the  horse,  for  form's  sake,  while  she  stepped  into 
the  somewhat  time-worn  vehicle,  stood  aside  to 
witness  the  departure. 

As  Ada  gathered  up  the  reins,  she  chanced  to 
see  Bruce  sauntering  along  the  drive  towards 
the  gates,  where  she  would  have  to  pass  him. 
The  sneering  smile  with  which  he  had  pointed 
out  the  church  at  Caliente  recurred  to  her  with 
a  pain  which  surprised  herself,  and  she  shrank 
from  exposing  herself  to  such  another.  There 
was  no  help  for  it,  however,  so  she  touched  Billy 
with  the  whip  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  him 


36  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

aware  that  another  than  his  indulgent  mistress 
was  driving  him  at  this  unwonted  hour;  and  the 
indignation  which  he  doubtless  felt  resulted  in 
his  setting  out  at  a  pace  which  filled  Sandy  with 
surprise. 

Bruce,  sauntering  on,  his  head  bent  in  thought, 
heard  the  sound  of  horses'  feet  and  of  wheels  be 
hind  him,  and  had  scarcely  time  to  feel  surprised 
when  Billy  passed  him  at  a  rapid  trot,  and  Ada 
Selwyn,  with  an  unwonted  flush  upon  her  cheeks, 
nodded  and  smiled  at  him  as  he  stepped  aside. 
"  Haven't  I  a  fast  horse  ?  "  she  called  out,  good- 
humoredly,  as  she  went  by. 

Bruce  stood  looking  after  her  with  a  curious 
mixture  of  expression  ;  annoyance  speedily  got 
the  upper  hand. 

"Absurd!  "he  muttered  to  himself,  as  he 
turned  upon  his  heel;  "these  self-righteous 
people  are  very  clever  in  devices  for  rebuking 
the  sinners  round  them,  but,  Miss  Ada,  you  will 
find  that  I  am  not  disposed  to  put  up  with  this 
sort  of  thing." 

"  How  cross  you  look,  Bruce,"  said  Nettie  at 
breakfast.  "  I  thought  Ada  was  making  you 
quite  good-humored.  Is  it  because  she  is  late 
this  morning  ?  " 

*•'  On  the  contrary,  she  was  early,"  replied 
Bruce,  coldly.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 


THE  M USG ROVE  RAh7CH.  37 

her  drive  off  in  state  in  mother's  buggy  with 
Ichabod  ;  I  presume  on  her  way  to  her  devo 
tions  at  Caliente.  Do  you  know  anything 
about  it,  mother  ?  " 

Poor  Mrs.  Musgrove  looked  uneasy.  She 
stood  in  awe  of  her  strong-willed,  energetic  son, 
and  especially  dreaded  his  irony. 

It  had  been  so  much  easier  to  give  way  to  him 
than  to  assert  her  authority,  even  in  his  child 
hood,  that  by  degrees  she  had  lost  it  altogether, 
and  their  relative  positions  seemed  sometimes 
reversed. 

"  Yes,  Ada  came  to  me  this  morning,"  she 
replied;  "  I  advised  her  not  to  take  Billy,  but  I 
could  not  refuse  him,  as  she  really  wished  to  go." 

"  The  whole  thing  is  ridiculous,"  said  Bruce, 
sharply.  "  For  my  part,  I  object  to  any  of  our 
family  making  themselves  conspicuously  ab 
surd." 

"Well,"  said  Hugh,  whose  lighter  and  easier 
disposition  seldom  quite  sympathized  with  his 
brother,  and  whose  good-natured  gallantry  was 
somewhat  shocked  at  Bruce's  harshness  of  man 
ner — "well,  I  must  say,  Bruce,  that  I  don't  see 
why  you  should  make  a  disagreeable  fuss  over 
it.  I  wish  Ada  had  spoken  to  me  last  evening. 
I  should  have  strained  a  point  to  get  up  early 
and  drive  her  over  myself." 


273795 


38  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

"  And  attended  service,  I  presume,"  said  Bruce, 
ill-naturedly. 

"  Well,  for  that  matter,  I  have  not  taken  a  vcw 
never  to  go  to  church,  that  I  know  of." 

"  That  may  be,  but  if  you  had  any  self-respect 
you  would  not  be  likely  to  go  to  a  church  whose 
minister  had  insulted  your  brother." 

"  You  make  too  much  of  that,  Bruce,"  said 
Mrs.  Musgrove  wondering  at  her  own  courage. 
"  I  cannot  think  that  Mr.  Ashleigh  intended  to 
insult  you;  and,  after  all,  people  don't  always 
attend  church  for  the  clergyman's  sake." 

Bruce's  only  reply  was  an  impatient  frown, 
and  the  meal  would  have  been  an  unusually 
uncomfortable  one,  had  not  Nettie,  who  had  an 
object  in  restoring  her  brother's  good-humor* 
gone  out  of  her  way  to  do  so. 

"  I  wish  you  would  drive  me  over  to  the  Crof- 
tons  this  afternoon,  Bruce,"  she  said  meekly, 
as  she  helped  him  to  some  dish  which  was  sup 
posed  to  be  his  favorite  one.  "  I  almost  prom 
ised  Louise  that  you  would."  And  after  some 
demur  Bruce  consented. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ONCE  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  ranch,  Ada 
found  that  Billy  soon  subsided  into  the  jog-trot 
which  was  his  ordinary  gait.  The  white,  dusty 
road  stretched  away  over  the  arid  upland,  so  dry 
and  parched  after  the  long,  rainless  summer. 
The  morning  was  not  very  warm,  for  some 
misty  clouds  hung  like  fleeces  overhead,  and 
subdued  the  fervent  rays  of  the  sun. 

The  Musgrove  Ranch  was  the  last  on  that 
side  of  the  settlement,  and  there  was  not  another 
upon  the  road  to  Caliente,  until  within  a  short 
distance  of  that  place.  It  certainly  was  a  lonely 
road,  and  Ada  felt  a  light  nervous  thrill  pass 
over  her  as  she  looked  over  the  five  or  six  miles 
before  her.  Billy  gave  her  a  sense  of  helpless 
ness.  Just  as  a  little  feeling  of  discouragement 
came  upon  her,  from  among  the  dead,  dried 
mustard  bordering  the  road,  a  bird's  song  of 
peculiar  sweetness  and  clearness  struck  upon 
her  ear.  It  was  the  sweetest  and  simplest  of 
California  singers,  the  field-lark,  whose  few 
tender  notes,  be  they  repeated  never  so  often, 

39 


4O  THE  M  US  GROVE  RANCH. 

cannot  lose  their  charm.  There  was  something 
so  home-like  and  cheering  in  the  sound  that 
Ada  drove  on  with  a  lighter  heart.  "  I  don't 
want  to  whip  you,  poor  old  Billy,"  she  said, 
cheerfully,  "  but  you  must  try  to  do  your  best 
this  morning,"  and  she  drew  the  whip  lightly 
over  his  sleek  and  well-fed  back.  Either  the 
gentle  remonstrance  or  the  reminder  exer 
cised  a  salutary  effect,  and  the  old  horse  started 
out  again  at  a  respectable  trot,  which  he  kept 
up  with  sundry  intermissions  until  the  first 
houses  of  Caliente  came  in  sight.  There  was 
still  a  long,  though  gradual,  ascent  before  the 
little  town  was  reached,  and  Ada's  patience 
was  well  tested  before  at  last  she  found  herself 
in  the  streets  of  Caliente. 

There  was  no  appearance  of  its  being  Sun 
day.  Many  of  the  shops  were  open,  and  men 
were  lounging  round  or  passing  in  and  out  of 
the  "  saloons "  as  Ada  drove  along.  Some 
looked  at  her  curiously,  with  the  quick  percep 
tion  that  she  was  a  stranger  which  people  in 
small  communities  generally  possess. 

It  was  a  trial,  to  a  delicately  reared  and  sensi 
tive  girl,  to  feel  herself  gazed  at  and  commented 
upon  by  these  idlers,  many  of  whom,  even  at 
this  early  hour,  were  under  the  influence  of 
liquor.  It  was  the  first  time  in  her  life  that 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  41 

attending  the  services  of  the  Church  had  been 
connected  with  the  slightest  difficulty  or  self- 
sacriftce,  and  for  that  reason  they  assumed  the 
more  serious  proportions. 

"Yet,  what  a  little  thing  to  do  for  Him!" 
she  murmured  to  herself,  remembering  what 
the  early  Christians  had  done — taking  their 
lives  in  their  hands,  rather  than  forsake  the 
assembling  of  themselves  together. 

So  she  drove  on  until,  at  the  intersection  of 
the  streets  where  they  had  stopped  the  day 
before,  she  saw  the  barn-like  little  building, 
with  the  cross  at  the  end,  which  Bruce  had 
pointed  out  to  her  as  the  Episcopal  church  at 
Caliente. 

On  approaching  it,  she  found  a  rail  for  fast 
ening  horses,  and  seeing  a  small  boy  sitting 
on  the  door-steps,  she  confided  Billy  to  his 
care. 

It  was  with  a  strange  emotion  that  Ada 
crossed  the  threshold  of  the  church.  She  had 
never  worshiped  in  any  save  a  city  church,  or, 
at  least,  one  of  dignified  proportions  and  acces 
sories.  For  years  past  she  had  attended  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  and  imposing  churches  of 
New  York.  Three  weeks  before,  she  had  been 
one  of  a  throng  of  worshipers  in  that  stately 
building,  and  had  joined  her  voice  with  those 


42  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

which  blended  in  glorious  harmony  of  prayer 
and  praise.  She  had  then  knelt  for  the  last 
time  before  the  sanctuary  which  faithful  hearts 
and  hands  had  rendered  as  worthy  as  earthly 
worship  can  be  of  the  most  sacred  rites. 

What  she  saw  before  her  now  was  a  small, 
absolutely  plain,  but  decent  building;  the  walls 
were  not  plastered,  but  the  wood  had  been 
stained  a  dark  rich  tint,  and  the  narrow  lancet 
windows  were  filled  with  an  opaque,  greenish 
glass,  which  let  in  a  subdued  light,  giving  a 
solemn  character  to  the  building.  The  chancel 
was  not  recessed,  but  well  raised  above  the 
body  of  the  church.  There  were  hangings  of  a 
rich  crimson  color,  and  an  altar-cloth  of  pure 
white,  on  which  was  worked  the  emblem  of  our 
salvation;  and  two  plain  vases,  filled  with  exqui 
site  roses,  stood  on  either  side  a  metal  altar- 
cross  upon  the  table.  The  seats  were  made  of 
ordinary  redwood,  unvarnished — so  unlike  the 
magnificent  structures  in  which  she  had  been 
wont  to  worship,  and  yet  so  absolutely  alike 
in  the  feeling  which  it  engendered,  was  this 
small  house  of  God. 

When  Ada  entered,  the  church  was  empty ; 
with  a  feeling  of  profound  thankfulness,  a  thrill 
of  recognition,  she  knelt  down  and  prayed. 
When  she  had  risen  from  her  knees,  and  had  had 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  43 

time  to  take  a  closer  survey,  she  perceived  how 
bare  in  its  simplicity  was  the  building,  while  at 
the  same  time  no  essentials  were  wanting — a 
small  font,  carved  out  of  oak  wood,  an  organ  in 
a  very  primitive  case,  a  prayer-desk  and  lectern 
of  the  plainest  pattern.  There  was  something 
in  it  all  that  appealed  strongly  to  the  young 
stranger.  Her  heart  went  out  to  the  little 
church  which  was  so  churchly  and  so  poor.  A 
very  feeble  bell  began  to  sound  after  awhile, 
and  then  a  clergyman  and  a  lady  entered  the 
church. 

He  was  a  man  rather  past  middle  life,  with 
a  fine,  care-worn  face  ;  she  was  apparently 
considerably  younger,  and  very  fair  and  frail- 
looking.  They  walked  up  the  aisle  together, 
and  turned  towards  the  organ,  which  he  opened 
for  his  companion. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  too  much  for  you  to 
day,"  he  said,  gently.  The  low,  tender  tone 
came  distinctly  to  Ada's  ear:  they  evidently 
thought  themselves  alone. 

"  No,  I  am  feeling  rather  better,"  she  said, 
"and  it  would  be  such  a  pity  to  have  no  music/' 

Ada  moved,  and,  looking  up,  they  saw  her. 
She  arose  as  the  clergyman  approached  her, 
and  introduced  herself.  He  looked  surprised 
and  interested. 


44 


THE  MUSGROVE  JtAXCff. 


"You  are  staying  at  the  Musgrove  Ranch?" 
he  said,  very  kindly;  "  I  am  all  the  more  happy 
to  welcome  you  to  our  little  church.  My  name 
is  Ashleigh.  I  should  like  to  introduce  you  to 
my  wife  before  service." 

Seeing  the  lady  quite  near,  she  was  even 
more  frail  and  fair  than  Ada  had  supposed. 
Her  eyes  were  large  and  blue,  and  far  too  brill 
iant,  and  the  delicate  cheek  had  a  feverish 
flush  upon  it.  The  girl's  heart  ached  as  she 
saw  her,  with  a  sudden  memory  of  a  beloved 
lost  friend. 

"  Will  you  let  me  play  for  you  to-day  ?"  she 
said,  after  a  few  words  had  passed  between 
them.  "  I  heard  Mr.  Ashleigh  say  you  were 
not  well,  and  I  should  like  to  be  of  some  use, 
if  I  may." 

Mrs.  Ashleigh  looked  at  her  with  such  sweet 
gratitude. 

"  How  good  and  kind  you  are  !  I  cannot 
refuse,  and  my  husband  will  feel  so  grateful. 
He  is  worried  to  think  of  my  having  to  play 
always." 

So  they  went  to  the  organ,  and  Ada,  with  a 
few  touches,  showed  that  church-music  was  to 
her  almost  as  familiar  as  breathing.  She  glanced 
rapidly  over  the  music  which  had  been  select 
ed,  and  praised  the  tone  of  the  little  organ. 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


45 


Then  people  began  to  drop  in,  until  a  small 
congregation  had  gathered,  consisting  chiefly 
of  women.  Ada  looked  for  some  of  the  Mus- 
grove  friends  whom  she  had  already  met,  but 
it  was  not  until  service  had  begun  that  one  or 
two  members  of  some  of  these  families  came  in. 
Sitting  where  she  did,  she  could  not  but  notice 
the  congregation — could  not  but  see,  with  a 
feeling  of  chill  and  disappointment,  how  few 
joined  heartily  in  the  service,  and  hear  how 
meagre  were  the  responses.  A  few  young  girls 
composed  the  choir,  and  in  singing  the  simple 
chants,  were  entirely  alone.  Ada  made  the 
most  of  the  organ.  The  hymns  were  bright, 
and  should  have  been  familiar,  and  something 
like  congregational  singing  should  have  been 
the  result. 

The  sermon  was  not  long.  The  preacher  was 
intensely  in  earnest:  fearless  in  his  denuncia 
tion  of  the  terrible  indifference  to  religion, 
which  he  called  the  plague-spot  of  the  land  ; 
tender  and  loving  in  his  appeals  to  his  hearers 
to  show  in  their  own  lives  and  conduct  an  ex 
ample  which  must  eventually  leaven  the  mass 
of  irreligion  and  deadness  to  spiritual  things 
around  them;  strong  and  distinct  in  doctrine, 
a  firm  adherence  to  which,  he  said,  was  the  one 


46  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

safeguard  against  the  laxity  that,  of  necessity, 
must  lead  to  utter  unbelief. 

"Remember,"  he  said,  "  that  we  must  either 
be  influenced  by  or  influence  our  surroundings. 
Either  we  make  them  better,  or  they  make  us 
worse.  So  surely  as  you  hear  me  to-day,  you 
will  yourselves  lapse  into  that  life  of  practical 
unbelief,  or  the  land  in  which  you  live  will  be 
lifted  to  a  higher  level  by  your  presence  in  it." 

From  that  short  sermon  Ada  learned  enough 
of  the  religious  conditions  of  her  new  home  to 
make  her  put  up  a  voiceless  prayer  for  grace 
and  strength  to  be  faithful — faithful  to  the 
beautiful  training  of  her  youth — faithful  to  her 
Christian  vows — faithful  in  life  and  in  death  to 
Him  who  is  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SERVICE  was  over,  but  Ada  remained  to  have 
a  little  further  talk  with  her  new  friends,  for  she 
felt  instinctively  that  such  they  were.  They, 
on  the  other  hand,  had  experienced  a  greater 
satisfaction  in  seeing  her  than  she  could  have 
dreamed  of.  She  could  not  have  known  that 
her  sweet,  pure  face,  her  gracious  helpfulness, 
her  reverent  demeanor,  her  clear,  cultured  voice 
which  had  responded  with  such  distinctness  in 
the  service,  had  given  the  clergyman  and  his 
wife  the  greatest  pleasure  which  they  had 
known  since  Providence  had  led  them  to  take 
up  their  abode  at  Caliente. 

"  My  husband  will  drive  you  through  the 
town,  at  least,"  said  Mrs.  Ashleigh,  as  the  cler 
gyman  helped  Ada  into  her  carriage,  and,  in 
spite  of  her  protest,  laughingly  insisted  on  tak 
ing  his  seat  beside  her. 

"  I  am   sure  you  will  not  deny  my  wife  the 
satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I  have  piloted  you 
past   the  saloons,"   he   said,  "  and   it   will   be 
nothing  to  me  to  walk  back." 
47 


48  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

"  But  Mrs.  Ashleigh  will  have  to  walk  home 
alone!  " 

"  No,  she  will  wait  for  me  here,"  he  said,  as 
he  touched  Billy  with  the  whip,  authoritatively. 
So  Ada  had  to  submit  with  a  good  grace,  and 
waved  her  hand  in  farewell  to  Mrs.  Ashleigh. 

It  was  a  comfort,  there  was  no  denying  it, 
not  to  have  to  return  alone  through  the  streets 
of  Caliente,  for  the  idlers  round  the  saloons 
had  increased  in  numbers  since  morning. 

"  You  are  shocked,  are  you  not,"  said  Mr. 
Ashley,  "  at  seeing  the  way  in  which  Sunday 
is  observed  here  ?  and  well  you  may  be.  The 
need  is  great  of  faithful,  patient  workers,  of 
strong  and  loving  hearts  to  witness  for  our 
Lord,  in  this  new  and,  in  many  ways,  wonder 
ful  country." 

"  Yes,"  the  young  girl  answered,  with  a  sigh, 
as  she  thought  of  the  sneering  indifference  of 
her  cousins;  "  I  am  shocked  and  disappointed, 
but,  Mr.  Ashleigh,  I  want  to  do  what  I  can  to 
help  forward  the  work  for  Christ  and  His 
Church.  You  must  tell  me  what  I  can  do,  and 
I  shall  feel  very  grateful  to  you." 

"  My  dear  Miss  Selwyn,  I  could  wish  for  no 
stronger,  proof  of  your  sincerity  than  the  fact 
of  your  having  attended  our  service  this  morn 
ing,  though  a  visitor  at  the  Musgrove  Ranch.  I 


THE  MUSGRCVE  RANCH.  49 

am,  unhappily,  too  well  aware  of  the  position 
which  your  cousins  occupy  towards'the  Church. 
You  may  not  yourself  be  fully  acquainted  with 
it,  but  I  can  vouch  for  it  that  you  did  not  meet 
with  much  encouragement  to  come  to  Caliente 
to-day  ? " 

Mr.  Ashley  said  this  with  a  patient,  good- 
humored  smile. 

"  No,"  said  Ada,  and  she  could  not  smile 
in  return,  "  I  did  not,  but  there  was  certainly 
not  sufficient  opposition  to  make  my  coming 
the  smallest  merit  on  my  part." 

The  clergyman  looked  at  the  grave  young 
face  with  increasing  interest.  "  I  think  I  had 
better  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  that  I  was  so  unfor 
tunate  as  to  incur  the  special  disfavor  of  Mr. 
Bruce  Musgrove.  My  zeal  on  one  occasion 
perhaps  outstripped  my  discretion,  or,  rather, 
knowing  the  family  antecedents,  I  took  for 
granted  that  I  should  find  in  the  Musgroves 
some  of  the  support  I  sorely  needed.  I  had  an 
interview  with  your  cousin,  in  which  he  showed 
an  amount  of  indifference  that  startled  me  out 
of  my  propriety,  and  I  told  the  young  gentle 
man,  perhaps  in  too  unvarnished  a  manner, 
what  I  thought  of  his  attitude  towards  Chris 
tianity,  and  his  responsibility  as  one  of  the 
wealthiest  and  largest  land-owners  in  the  set- 


50  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

tlement.  The  result  was  that  he  lost  his  tem 
per,  and  expressed,  not  very  politely,  his  desire 
that  I  should  not  in  the  future  consider  it  my 
duty  to  include  the  Musgrove  Ranch  in  my 
pastoral  visits.  Of  course,  none  of  the  family 
has  ever  entered  my  little  church,  and,  of 
course,  their  example  has  done  much  to  weak 
en  my  influence  in  the  valley."  He  stopped,  and 
sighed  involuntarily. 

"  I  am  so  grieved,"  said  Ada,  simply,  "  and 
it  is  all  such  a  miserable  surprise  to  me." 

"  I  can  see  plainly  the  position  in  which  you 
are  placed,"  said  Mr.  Ashleigh;  "I  can  see,  too, 
how  the  fact  of  your  loyalty  to  the  Church  will 
be  added  to  the  account  against  myself;  but  we 
must  both  remember  that  personal  considera 
tions  ought  not  to  weigh  for  a  moment  against 
higher  motives.  You  and  I  have  both  a  work 
to  do  for  the  Master.  The  way  of  kindness  and 
gentleness  is  best;  you  will  adhere  to  that,  I 
am  sure,  and  who  knows  how  much  you  may 
accomplish  !" 

They  had  driven  quite  beyond  the  little  town, 
and  Mr.  Ashleigh  took  leave  of  Ada,  express 
ing  the  hope  which  he  strongly  felt  that  she 
might  be  able  to  come  to  Caliente  again  soon. 

Billy,  revolving  in  his  mind  the  comforts  of 
home,  traveled  far  better  than  might  have 


THE  M USG ROVE  RANCH.  51 

been  expected,  but  Ada  had  ample  leisure  to 
reflect  on  her  conversation  with  the  clergyman, 
and  on  the  unexpected  circumstances  which 
had  arisen  to  mar  the  happiness  of  her  life  at 
the  Musgrove  Ranch. 

The  luncheon  hour  was  past  when  she  reach 
ed  home.  The  house  had  a  somewhat  deserted 
look,  Bruce  having  fulfilled  his  promise  to 
take  Nettie  to  the  Croftons,  and  Hugh  ridden 
with  a  friend  to  the  Canon.  Mrs.  Musgrove 
was  lying  down  with  a  headache,  the  result  of 
the  little  worry  which  Bruce  had  occasioned 
her. 

Ada  drove  round  to  the  stables  and  then 
walked  to  the  house  ;  she  was  tired,  and  felt  it 
rather  a  relief  not  to  have  to  face  her  cousins, 
Bruce  especially. 

It  did  feel  a  little  lonely  through  the  after 
noon.  Mrs.  Musgrove  was  asleep,  and  the 
young  people  did  not  return  till  near  night-fall. 
There  was  a  deep  stillness  everywhere  ;  the 
farm-laborers  were  all  away,  and  none  of  the 
accustomed  busy  life  on  the  ranch  was  visible. 

Ada  sat  for  a  long  time  under  the  great  "  live- 
oak,"  many  thoughts  crowding  in  upon  her. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  recognized  the 
fact  that  she  might  be  called  upon  to  suffer 
something  for  her  Christian  principles,  but  the 


52  THE  M USG ROVE  RANCH. 

thought  was  not  disheartening.  A  voice  came 
to  her  in  the  stillness,  as  it  has  come  to  many 
another:  "But  if  ye  suffer  for  righteousness 
sake,  happy  are  ye." 

The  sunset  was  beautiful  beyond  description  ; 
the  lights  and  shadows  on  the  mountains  were 
wonderful  in  their  varying  loveliness.  Ada 
watched  them  until  the  rosy  tints  had  faded 
out  and  given  place  to  a  chill,  gray  hue  which 
reminded  her  of  death  ;  then  in  the  darkening 
sky  stars  came  out  here  and  there.  The  wind 
freshened  until  it  blew  coldly.  As  she  turned 
to  go  into  the  house,  she  came  on  Bruce  stand 
ing  on  the  veranda  ;  he  had  returned  with 
Nettie  a  little  while  since. 

Ada  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come  back,  Bruce,"  she 
said,  frankly  and  sweetly  :  "  I  was  beginning 
to  feel  a  little  forsaken.  Where  have  you  been 
all  day  ?" 

He  had  intended  treating  her  distantly  and 
coldly,  to  make  her  realize  that  she  had  dis 
pleased  him,  but  it  was  hardly  possible  to  do  so 
in  the  face  of  so  much  gentleness.  He  con 
tented  himself,  for  the  present,  with  preserving 
an  absolute  silence  with  regard  to  her  drive  to 
Caliente. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"A  PICNIC  in  the  Canon  !  "exclaimed  Nettie, 
as  she  glanced  over  a  letter  which  Hugh  had 
just  thrown  into  the  hammock  where  she  was 
reclining. 

Ada  and  Bruce  were  having  a  game  of  chess 
on  the  veranda  near  by.  Chess  was  Bruce's 
favorite  recreation,  if,  indeed,  what  was  entered 
into  so  seriously  could  be  called  such. 

"  Do  you  hear,  Hugh  ?  The  Croftons,  the 
Watkinses,  the  Hamingtons,  and  ourselves,  on 
Thursday.  We  shall  have  to  ride,  for  no  car 
riage  can  pass  along  the  road  to  the  upper  falls. 
Mammie,"  and  she  turned  coaxingly  towards  her 
mother,  "  you  will  get  Katie  to  bake  us  some 
of  her  best  chicken-pies,  will  you  not?  A  pic 
nic  in  the  Canon  is  just  what  I  seem  to  want  !" 

Ada  looked  up  and  laughed. 

"  You  happy  girl,"  she  said,  "  to  get  just  what 
you  want." 

"  Don't  mind  her,  Ada,"  said  Bruce,  severely  ; 
"do  you  see  the  position  of  your  bishops  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  declare,  Bruce  !"  pouted  Nellie ;  "you 
53 


54  THE  MUSGROVE  RAXCH. 

are  the  most  uncomfortable  creature  that  I 
know.  Wait,"  she  added,  mischievously;  see  if 
I  don't  tell  Louise  Crofton  how  you  treated  her 
invitation  !" 

"  Don't  interrupt  our  game,  if  you  please,"  he 
replied  without  looking  up,  but  Ada  noticed 
that  he  colored  and  frowned  a  little.  Women 
are  quick  to  notice  such  trifles. 

Bruce  had  only  that  day  made  the  discovery 
that  Ada  was  a  good  chess  player  ;  so  good,  in 
fact,  that  it  took  all  his  skill  to  continue  a  game 
which  was  begun,  on  his  part,  with  a  little  con 
temptuous  carelessness  of  his  opponent.  He 
had  never  before  played  with  a  lady,  and  had 
rashly  concluded  that  they  were  generally  poor 
players. 

Ada,  seeing  how  much  he  was  in  earnest,  be 
gan,  on  her  part,  to  play  with  a  stronger  desire 
to  conquer  him  ;  and  so  the  game  went  on, 
while  Hugh  and  Nettie  agreed  that  chess  was 
the  most  unsociable  and  undesirable  amuse 
ment  (so  called)  that  had  ever  been  invented. 
Hugh  was  himself  no  mean  player,  when  he 
gave  his  mind  to  it,  but  he  did  not  approve  of 
tha  masterful  manner  in  which  his  brother  had 
monopolized  Ada. 

"  Checkmate  !  " 

It  was  Ada's  voice,  with  just  the  faintest  quiver 


THE  M USG ROVE  RANCH, 


55 


of  excitement  in  it,  and  Bruce  threw  back  his 
hair  from  his  forehead  with  a  gesture  which 
those  who  knew  him  best  knew  to  signify  annoy 
ance. 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  for  some  t:me  that  it  was 
coming,"  he  said  ;  "I  must  own  to  a  very  care 
less  play  at  first." 

It  was  Ada's  turn  to  redden  now. 

"  You  might  have  left  me  my  poor  little  vic 
tory,"  she  said,  half  laughingly,  half  seriously  ; 
"  it  would  have  been  more  generous." 

"You  would  not  want  me  to  be  generous  if 
you  mean  that  I  should  have  played  as  with 
an  inferior  player,"  he  said,  almost  crossly, 
"  but,  if  it  is  any  satisfaction  to  you,  I  will  own 
that  when  we  began  I  did  not  entertain  the 
same  respect  for  you  as  an  opponent  that  I  do 
now." 

"  Ah,  you  prejudged  my  case  !  "  she  replied, 
laughing  good-humoredly. 

"Well,  I  suppose  I  should  feel  flattered  at 
your  confession.  You  shall  have  your  revenge 
when  you  will." 

"  Not  to-day,"  said  Hugh.  "  I  protest.  Bruce 
takes  pleasure  too  sadly,  as  the  Frenchman 
said  of  the  Englishman.  I  want  to  show  you, 
the  Night-blooming  Cereus  I  told  you  about, 
Ada.  The  buds  seem  quite  re^dy  to  open  to,- 


Ej6  'THE  MUSGROVE  RAXCH. 

night,  and  he  offered  her  his  arm  with  ostenta 
tious  gallantry. 

"  Auntie,  you  must  come  too,"  said  Ada, 
who  thought  she  saw  a  tendency  in  her  cousins 
sometimes  to  be  lacking  in  attention  to  their 
mother.  "I  shall  not  enjoy* my  walk  half  as 
well  without  you."  And  Mrs.  Musgrove  was 
very  well  pleased  to  go  with  the  young  peo 
ple. 

Nettie,  anxious  to  discuss  the  picnic,  follow 
ed,  while  Bruce,  lighting  a  cigar,  strolled  to  and 
fro  on  the  piazza. 

He  did  not  like  being  conquered  in  anything, 
and  it  took  him  a  few  minutes  to  get  over  the 
little  matter  of  Ada's  victory.  Strange  to  say, 
it  was  the  fact  of  its  being  Ada's  which  made 
it  more  important  than  it  would  otherwise 
have  been. 

Why  was  it  so  ?  She  was  habitually  gentle 
in  manner,  a  lady  always,  with  a  grace  which 
can  only  come  from  good  breeding,  and  yet, 
under  all  this  Bruce  had  detected  from  the  first 
a  strength  of  character  and  purpose  which  on 
the  one  hand  attracted  and  on  the  other  irri 
tated  him. 

His  whole  bringing  up  had,  unfortunately, 
tended  to  develop  and  strengthen  what  was 
arbitrary  in  his  nature,  until  he  had  really 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  57 

become  something  of  an  autocrat — always 
deferred  to  in  his  home  circle,  and  even  to  a 
great  extent  beyond  it,  as  men  of  strong  mind 
and  strong  will  are  apt  to  be.  And  in  this 
placid,  gracious  young  cousin  he  instinctively 
felt  there  was  a  spirit  which  would  not  be 
controlled  by  his. 

Again,  like  many  and  many  a  young  man  of 
promise  in  this  great  Western  world,  with  its 
avenues  to  riches  and  success,  with  so  much  to 
foster  worldly  ambition  and  enterprise,  with 
such  rich  spoils  for  the  eager  brain  and  strong 
hand,  Bruce  Musgrove  had  come  by  degrees  to 
centre  his  hopes  and  desires  upon  purely  worldly 
objects.  The  spiritual  part  of  him,  with  all  its 
glorious  possibilities  had  become,  if  not  dwarfed, 
at  least  dulled  and  deadened.  Its  needs  had 
been  denied  until  they  no  longer  asked  to  be 
satisfied.  And  there  had  been  nothing  about 
him  in  any  way  to  awaken  a  sense  of  the  loss 
he  had  sustained.  With  the  one  exception, 
indeed,  of  Mr.  Ashleigh,  no  one  had  ever  point 
edly  addressed  him  on  the  subject  of  his  relig 
ious  obligations,  and  he  had  then  arrived  at  a 
standpoint  from  which  such  interference  had 
seemed  unwarrantable  presumption. 

And  here  was  Ada  Selwyn,  evidently  belong 
ing  to  another  world,  in  respect  to  those  things 


58  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

which  he  had  gradually  come  to  regard  with 
supercilious  contempt,  and  yet  a  person  of  such 
culture  and  strength  of  character  that  it  was 
impossible  to  despise  her  mental  position. 

So  Bruce,  when  he  reflected  on  his  cousin, 
found  himself  in  an  uncomfortable  condition  of 
mind. 

He  was  annoyed  with  himself  this  evening  for 
allowing  his  reflections  on  Ada  to  engross  him, 
and  in  a  little  while  he  set  out  on  a  brisk  walk 
to  a  laborer's  cottage  to  make  arrangements 
for  irrigating  a  new  portion  of  the  ranch  on  the 
morrow. 

Meanwhile  the  others  had  visited  the  Night- 
blooming  Cereus,  and  finding  that  it  was  on  the 
'very  verge  of  opening,  Ada  had  declared  that 
she  must  wait  to  see  it,  and  Hugh  had  hastened 
back  to  the  house  for  wraps  for  the  ladies. 

The  sunset  came  and  faded  while  they  waited, 
and  then  Ada  witnessed  for  the  first  time  the 
magical  unfolding  of  the  mysterious  flower.  The 
heavy  perfume  had  a  strange  effect  upon  her. 

"How  wonderful,  how  marvelous,"  she  said, 
watching  the  opening  blossom  ;  "ah,  how  can 
any  one  looking  even  at  this,  doubt  that  the 
hand  of  a  great  Creator  fashioned  this  glorious 
world  !  "  The  others  were  silent,  but  Mrs.  Mus- 
grove  pressed  her  niece's  hand,  as  though  her 
words  awakened  an  answering  feeling. 


THE  MUSGROVE  RAXCH.  59 

Bruce  joined  them  as  they  were  about  to  re 
turn  to  the  house  ;  the  first  fresh  glory  of  the 
flower  had  already  passed  away. 

"Ah,  Bruce,  you  have  missed  the  loveliest 
sight  !  "  exclaimed  Ada,  "  though,  of  course,  it 
is  not  new  to  you." 

But  Bruce  was  cold  and  irresponsive.  "  Yes, 
I  have  often  seen  them,"  he  said.  "  As  a  boy 
they  had  quite  a  fascination  for  me,  but  I  sel 
dom  watch  them  now." 

"  Bruce  is  too  practical  to  spend  his  time  on 
night-blooming  flowers,"  said  Nettie,  who  had 
not  forgiven  her  brother  for  his  last  "  snub 
bing,"  as  she  called  it  ;  "  'time  is  money'  is  his 
motto.  He  is  a  true  American  grafted  on  a 
canny  Scotchman  ! " 

Bruce  never  gave  his  sister  the  faintest  rea 
son  to  suppose  that  her  little  speeches  affected 
him,  and  Ada  could  not  but  admire  his  absolute 
self-control  in  this  matter,  for  Nettie  seemed 
to  delight  in  little  irritating  sallies  when  she 
could  indulge  in  them  with  impunity. 

"Are  you  going  to  this  picnic,  Bruce  ?"  asked 
Ada,  who  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  changing 
the  conversation  when  Nettie  delivered  her 
shots  ;  "  you  told  me  you  would  take  me  to  the 
Canon  some  time." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  BRIGHT,  breezy  day  added  to  the  enjoy 
ment  of  the  picnic  party,  which  had  gathered  at 
the  Musgrove  Ranch,  and  they  set  out  in  high 
spirits.  All  were  on  horseback  except  Bruce 
and  Ada  ;  the  latter  not  having  a  riding-horse, 
her  cousin  of  course  volunteered  to  drive  Alep 
po  in  his  buggy.  Ada  had,  it  is  true,  demurred 
at  this;  it  was  to  have  been  a  riding  expedition, 
and  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  young  ladies  of 
the  party  might  feel  a  little  aggrieved  in  being 
deprived  of  Bruce  as  a  cavalier.  She  had  even 
proposed,  though  not  without  misgivings,  that 
she  should  be  permitted  to  ride  Billy,  but  this 
was  met  with  so  much  good-natured  derision, 
that  she  consented  to  Bruce's  arrangement. 

She  had  scarcely  been  alone  with  him  since 
her  conversation  with  Mr.  Ashleigh  had  made 
plain  to  her  the  relation  which  Bruce  occupied 
towards  the  clergyman  and  his  work. 

Bruce  had  interested  and  attracted  her  more 
than  either  of  her  cousins.  His  manliness,  his 
energy,  the  ambition  which  had  already  given 
60 


THE  MUSGROVE  RAXCH.  6  I 

him  the  first  position  among  the  inhabitants  of 
the  valley,  even  the  reticence,  which,  contrast 
ed  with  Hugh's  habitual  light-heartedness  and 
Nettie's  somewhat  shallow  manner,  had  com 
bined  to  make  her  enjoy  his  society,  and  arrive, 
rather  hastily,  at  a  conception  of  his  character 
which  was  too  favorable.  Ada's  weakness  — 
and  which  of  us  is  without  a  weakness  ? — was  a 
tendency  to  jump  to  conclusions.  She  had 
been  proportionately  disappointed  at  Bruce's 
almost  contemptuous  reference  to  the  church 
at  Caliente,  and  Mr.  Ashleigh's  account  of  the 
young  man's  course  of  action  had  grieved  and 
shocked  her  the  more  because  of  the  high 
opinion  she  had  entertained  of  him. 

Aleppo  seemed  excited  to  distinguish  himself 
by  the  presence  of  the  gay  riders,  and  dashed 
on  at  such  speed  that  Ada  would  have  almost 
lost  her  nerve  had  she  not  placed  great  confi 
dence  in  Bruce  as  a  driver.  It  was  exhilarating, 
and  even  exciting,  to  be  whirled  along,  the  fresh 
breeze  blowing  in  her  face,  over  the  open  valley 
towards  the  mountains,  which  she  never  wearied 
in  watching. 

The  cousins  had  exchanged  but  a  few  words 
since  setting  out.  Gradually  they  found  them 
selves  at  a  considerable  distance  in  advance  01 
the  others,  who,  after  the  first  brisk  gallop,  had 


62  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

subsided  into  a  pace  suited  to  keeping  up  their 
merry  conversation.  The  mouth  of  the  Canon, 
which  was  their  destination,  began  to  show  like 
a  black  shadow  on  the  mountain-side. 

"  I  have  no  idea  what  a  canon  is  like,"  said 
Ada,  as  Aleppo  began  to  slacken  his  speed  on 
the  steeper  incline  ;  "is  it  very  wild  and 
weird  ? " 

"  Wild  enough,  in  some  places,"  replied  Bruce, 
"  even  to  suit  the  greatest  lover  of  romantic 
scenery,  but  there  are  some  green  and  shady 
spots  which  you  will  enjoy.  By  the  by,  have 
you  ever  seen  a  rattlesnake  ?  " 

"  Never,  except  in  a  zoological  collection," 
said  Ada,  with  a  little  feminine  shudder  ;  "  I 
hope  they  are  not  plentiful  in  the  Canon  !  " 

"  You  need  not  be  alarmed  ;  a  rattlesnake  is 
not  a  difficult  thing  to  kill.  A  home  in  South 
ern  California  would  hardly  be  complete  with 
out  a  good  collection  of  rattles.  Has  not  Hugh 
shown  you  ours  ?  " 

"  No,  Hugh  has  neglected  my  education  in 
that  respect." 

"  Well,  we  may  be  able  to  show  you  some 
fresh  specimens  to-day." 

"  You  frighten  me,  Bruce,"  said  Ada,  who 
was  really  weak-minded  in  the  matter  of  snakes  ; 
"  seriously,  are  we  likely  to  see  any  ?  " 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  63 

Bruce  turned  his  head  and  looked  at  his 
cousin  curiously. 

"  It  is  almost  refreshing  to  find  that  Miss 
Ada  Selwyn  has  at  least  one  weakness." 

Ada  laughed,  a  little  flattered,  and  yet  more 
than  a  little  annoyed  at  Bruce's  implied  view 
of  her  character. 

"  I  must  be  a  very  uncomfortable  person  for 
common  mortals  to  live  with,"  she  said,  "  if  I 
have  only  one  weakness.  I  am  afraid  I  could 
not  quite  enjoy  being  so  near  perfection." 

"  Well,"  said  Bruce,  as  he  gave  Aleppo  the 
faintest  suggestion  of  the  whip,  "  possibly  there 
might  be  one  other/' 

"  That  is  comforting  ;  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  the  least,  the  very  least,  little  ten 
dency  to  like  her  own  way." 

He  had  not  intended,  even  under  cover  of  a 
joke,  to  hint  at  what  had  been  in  his  mind  ever 
since  they  had  stopped  that  day  at  Caliente, 
but  we  sometimes  find  ourselves,  against  our 
will,  giving  expression  to  our  thoughts. 

"  You  always  seem  so  much  in  earnest,  Bruce; 
How  have  I  shown  it  ?  " 

They  were  not  very  far  from  the  entrance  to 
the  Canon,  and  Aleppo  was  walking  leisurely 
enough. 

"Well,"   said   the   young   man   slowly,  and 


64  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

looking  straight  before  him  as  he  spoke,  "  I 
gave  you  credit  for  so  much  good  sense  that 
I  was  surprised  at  your  trip  to  Caliente  on 
Sunday." 

"  Why,  Bruce  ?  " 

Ada's  heart  was  beating  almost  painfully,  but 
she  was  not  half-hearted. 

Bruce  laughed  slightly. 

"  Why  ?  because  a  drive  of  six  miles  across 
the  valley  with  mother's  old  horse — and  alone 
— seemed,  to  my  judgment,  not  worthy  of  the 
admirable  sense  of  my  cousin  Ada." 

"  I  did  not  enjoy  the  drive  at  all,"  said  she, 
calmly,  "  but  I  had  no  alternative,  for  I  felt 
sure  that  neither  you  nor  Hugh  would  wish  to 
drive  me  there." 

"  That  may  be  quite  true,"  said  Bruce,  "  and 
there  comes  in  another  question  :  you  have  not 
found  us,  I  hope,  in  any  way  neglectful  of  your 
wishes  or  your  comfort,  since  you  came  to  us  ?" 

"  No,  most  certainly." 

"  Then — pardon  me  for  saying  so — might  you 
not  have  supposed  that  we  had  some  reason,  at 
least  worth  considering,  for  not  wishing  you  to 
attend  church  at  Caliente  ?  " 

Ada  kept  silence  for  a  few  moments.  "  It 
did  not  seem  to  me  that  any  reason,  except  the 
very  gravest,  could  justify  me  in  staying  away 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  65 

from  the  services  of  the  church,  if  by  any  means 
I  could  get  there." 

The  deliberation  with  which  she  spoke,  the 
quiet  conviction  of  her  manner,  as  gentle  as  it 
was  determined,  had  a  curious  effect  upon  her 
cousin.  He  had  never,  as  far  back  as  his  mem 
ory  had  carried  him,  met  with  an  opposition  of 
the  kind.  His  strong  will  and  masterful  man 
ner  had  always,  from  a  child,  had  their  way 
with  his  surroundings.  It  was  a  new  experience 
to  be  thus  gently  yet  firmly  opposed.  The 
harsh  look  which  Ada  had  seen  before  came 
into  his  face,  robbing  it  of  its  comeliness. 

"We  have  been  brought  up  in  different 
schools,  it  seems,"  he  said,  coldly;  "  my  contact 
with  nature,  and  my  practical  life,  as  well  as 
some  study  of  science,  have  turned  my  mind 
into  another  channel.  Mediaeval  mummery  is 
not  my  line." 

"  Neither  is  it  mine,"  said  Ada,  still  calmly, 
though  her  cheeks  were  beginning  to  brighten 
with  a  flush  of  excitement,  "  but  I  fail  to  see 
what  mediaeval  mummery  has  to  do  with  the 
services  at  Caliente.  Nothing  could  be  simpler 
than  the  one  which  I  attended.  And  let  me 
tell  you,  Bruce,  that  I  was  amply  rewarded  for 
my  rather  uncomfortable  drive,  by  being  able  to 
take  part  in  it.  That  little  church,  so  poor  and 


66  THE  MUSGROVE  RAXCH. 

unpretending,  yet  standing  forth  to  witness  for 
our  Master,  has  touched  my  heart  in  away  that 
I  cannot  describe." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Bruce,  with  a  sneer,  "  I 
make  every  allowance  for  a  lady's  sentiment." 

Ada  waited  until  she  could  control  herself. 

"  You  need  make  none  for  me,  Bruce.  I  am 
not  what  would  be  called  a  sentimental  person, 
and  my  love  for  the  Church  rests  on  a  firmer 
basis,  I  hope,  than  mere  sentiment." 

"  Call  it  the  force  of  habit,  then, "said  Bruce, 
harshly,  "training,  association,  running  in  the 
old  grooves,  fear  of  hewing  out  fresh  cisterns 
in  place  of  the  old  time-worn  channels,  with 
their  accumulation  of  rubbish." 

The  look  with  which  Ada  answered  him  pho 
tographed  itself  on  Bruce's  memory.  It  was  a 
look  the  like  of  which  he  had  never  met  before. 
There  was  so  much  sadness,  so  much  pity,  in  it 
—  a  sort  of  yearning  kindness — an  almost 
imploring  appeal.  As  their  eyes  met,  the  color 
rose  slowly  to  his  face,  though  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  him  to  explain  the  feeling 
which  caused  it  to  do  so. 

"Can  it  be,  Bruce,  that  you  are  one  of  those 
who  despise  what  the  best  and  noblest  and 
wisest  of  all  the  centuries  since  Christ  have 
lived  and  died  for  ?  Have  you,  even  without  a 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  6/ 

struggle,  given  up  all  for  these  new  lights  ? 
Have  you  put  science  in  the  place  of  God  ? " 

She  scarcely  knew  what  she  had  spoken. 
The  thought  was  so  intense  that  it  had  clothed 
itself  in  words  of  which  she  was  almost  uncon 
scious  ;  and  he,  for  his  part,  had  read  in  her 
face  all  that  her  words  expressed. 

He  laughed  a  little  uneasily. 

"  You  are  quite  eloquent,"  he  said,  "  but  as  I 
said  before,  I  fear  we  are  so  far  apart  in  our 
views  and  inclinations  and  studies,  that  there 
is  little  likelihood  of  our  coming  to  an  under 
standing.  With  regard  to  your  visits  to  Cali- 
ente,  I  have  of  course  no  right  to  dictate  to  you; 
only  this  I  must  explain.  Mr.  Ashleigh,  some 
time  since,  presumed  in  an  unwarrantable  man 
ner  to  interfere  with  my  freedom  of  action,  and 
I  consider  myself  fully  justified  in  ignoring  him. 
My  family,  of  course,  are  with  me,  but  as  re 
gards  yourself,  naturally  I  have  no  authority." 

"  I  am  glad,  at  least,  that  you  have  explained 
your  position,"  she  replied,  "that  we  may 
understand  each  other  in  this  matter.  As  for 
me,  my  duty,  as  a  member  of  the  Church,  is  so 
plain  that  were  I  to  neglect  it  I  should  be  act 
ing  against  my  conscience,  and  could  not  re 
spect  myself." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

IT  was  strange  and  sad  what  a  gulf  seemed 
to  have  opened  between  the  cousins.  Ada  was 
conscious  of  a  more  passionate  feeling  of  indig 
nation  and  pain  than  she  had  ever  before  expe 
rienced.  Tears  were  near  her  eyes,  and  it  was 
only  by  a  great  effort  that  she  kept  them  back. 
As  for  Bruce,  the  unchecked  pride  of  his  nature, 
the  tendency  to  domineer  which  his  whole  life 
had  fostered,  made  his  cousin's  calm  opposition 
to  his  wishes  almost  unbearable,  the  more  so, 
because  he  was  deeply  conscious  of  her  supe 
riority. 

He  had  made  no  reply  to  her  last  remark, 
except  by  a  light,  angry  laugh,  and  they  drove 
on  in  silence.  Slowly  the  Canon  began  to  open 
before  them  ;  the  road  ran  between  low  walls 
of  rock,  among  which  the  scrub-oak  found  here 
and  there  a  footing  ;  now  and  then  they  drove 
for  a  short  distance  in  deep  shadow,  cast  by  a 
projecting  spur  of  the  mountains,  which  were 
now  gradually  inclosing  them. 

As  they  advanced,  the  scene  grew  in  wild- 
68 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  69 

ness  and  solemnity.  Sheer  walls  of  rock  in 
some  places,  in  others  huge  blocks  piled  on  one 
another,  like  gigantic  masonry,  from  the  crev 
ices  in  which  a  scrub-oak  or  stunted  pine  hung 
forward  like  a  banner.  Higher  and  higher 
grew  the  Canon  sides  and  the  sky  overhead 
looked  a  deep,  awful  blue.  The  silence  and 
wild  majesty  of  nature  gradually  stilled  Ada's 
painful  agitation.  There  was  something  which 
lifted  her  thoughts  above  earthly  pains  and 
troubles,  and  brought  them  nearer  the  peace  of 
heaven.  The  angry  look,  too,  passed  out  of 
Bruce's  face.  He  was,  in  truth,  scarcely  less 
susceptible  to  the  influences  of  nature  than 
was  Ada. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  anything  like  this  ?" 
he  asked  after  a  while,  turning  towards  her  for 
a  moment;  and  Ada,  meeting  his  eyes,  saw  that 
for  the  time  being  there  was  a  truce  between 
them. 

"  Never,  "  she  answered  ;  "  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  it  charms  me." 

"  Some  people  are  not  fond  of  this  wild  soli 
tude,"  he  said  ;  "  it  depresses  them,  but  to  me 
it  has  always  been  a  keen  enjoyment  to  feel 
myself  in  the  very  heart  of  nature." 

"  It  is  what  I  have  always  longed  for,"  said 
Ada  ;  "  I  have  spent  nearly  all  my  life  in  cities, 


;o 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


or  resorts  which  always  seemed  to  me  li'ke  an 
outgrowth  of  cities,  and  when  I  have  read  of 
places  like  this  I  have  often  felt  impatient  of 
the  conventional  enjoyments  around  me.  I 
hope  you  will  not  think  me  too  strong-minded," 
she  added,  laughing.  It  was  a  relief  to  be  able 
to  speak  pleasantly  to  Bruce  again. 

"  I  shall  be  able  to  judge  better  of  that  when 
we  meet  our  first  rattlesnake,"  he  answered 
grimly  ;  and  Ada  was  subdued. 

The  unevenness  of  the  road  made  progress 
slow,  even  with  Aleppo,  but  none  too  slow  for 
Ada,  to  whom  every  fresh  combination  of 
mountain  and  rock  and  chasm  was  a  pleasure 
from  which  she  was  loath  to  part.  Presently 
the  profound  silence  was  broken  by  the  distant 
sound  of  water,  and  they  came  in  sight  of  a  sil 
very  water-fall,  spread  like  a  veil  over  a  pre 
cipitous  rock  and  dashing  itself  into  foam  upon 
the  debris  at  its  base.  It  was  gathered  into  a 
dark  pool  a  little  farther  on,  and  then,  overflow 
ing  its  bounds,  became  a  stream,  murmuring 
over  a  stony  bed  and  feeding  a  narrow  belt  of 
verdure  along  its  sides.  A  group  of  sycamores 
stood  near  its  margin,  and  here,  at  Ada's  sug 
gestion,  they  halted,  and  Bruce  helped  his  cou 
sin  to  alight.  He  spread  a  shawl  for  her  under 
the  trees  and  took  Aleppo  down  to  the  water. 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  *]\ 

What  an  awful,  utter  solitude  it  seemed, 
when  an  angle  of  rock  had  hidden  him  from  her 
sight  !  Ada  tried  to  fancy  what  it  would  have 
been  had  she  not  known  that  her  cousin  was 
within  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  of  her,  and 
had  this  seeming  solitude  been  real. 

She  sat  thus  for  some  time,  long  enough  to 
feel  how  small  one  human  being  is  in  such  a 
scene  ;  then  suddenly,  just  as  Bruce,  having  re 
turned  and  tied  Aleppo  to  a  projecting  branch 
of  a  sycamore,  had  thrown  himself  down  beside 
her,  a  burst  of  merry  laughter  was  carried  by 
the  breeze  to  where  they  sat  and  the  riding 
party  came  in  sight,  shouting  and  waving 
whips  and  handkerchiefs  at  view  of  the  advance 
guard,  as  they  called  the  cousins. 

Foremost  rode  Hugh  Musgrove  with  a  very 
handsome,  dark  girl,  who  sat  her  horse  most 
gracefully.  She  had  been  introduced  to  Ada 
as  Miss  Louise  Crofton,  but  in  the  hurry  of  de 
parture  she  had  not  realized  her  striking  ap 
pearance. 

"  Are  we  to  call  a  halt  here,"  asked  this 
fair  amazon,  addressing  Bruce,  "  or  do  you  pro 
pose  waiting  our  return  from  the  upper  falls  ?" 

There  was  just  a  faint  touch  of  annoyance  or 
satire  in  her  voice  which  jarred  on  Ada,  to 
whom  it  suddenly  recurred  that  it  had  been 


72  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

proposed  that  all  should  ride  because  the  road 
to  the  upper  falls  was  not  practicable  except  on 
horseback. 

"  It  would  quite  spoil  this  delightful  day  to 
me,"  she  said,  "  if  I  prevented  Bruce  from  going 
to  the  falls.  I  really  ought  not  to  have  come, 
as  I  did  not  ride." 

"  Nonsense,  Ada  ;  we  wanted  to  show  you  the 
Canon,"  said  Bruce.  "  I  know  the  upper  falls 
by  heart  ;  so  we  will  wait  here  till  they  come 
back." 

But  Ada  turned  to  Hugh. 

"  Will  you  stay  with  me,  Hugh  ?  "  she  said  ; 
"  it  seems  scarcely  fair  that  Bruce  should  be 
tied  to  my  chariot-wheels  all  the  time." 

"  A  willing  captive,"  laughed  Miss  Crofton. 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Ada,  good-naturedly,  but 
we  must  not  impose  even  upon  the  most  will 
ing." 

"  I  insist  on  staying  with  Ada,"  said  Hugh, 
gallantly,  dismounting  as  he  spoke  ;  "  I  pledge 
myself  to  be  her  most  devoted  knight." 

Bruce  had  alread  risen  from  his  seat.  He 
was  not  a  man  of  many  words,  so  no  one  was 
surprised  at  his  vaulting  onto  Hugh's  horse, 
and,  while  the  others  were  laughing  and  chat 
ting,  quietly  riding  on  beside  Miss  Crofton. 
The  others,  expressing  their  regret  that  Ada 


THE  MUSGROVE  RAXCH.  7-1 

/   \J 

and  Hugh  could  not  be  of  the  company,  fol 
lowed,  each  turning  to  wave  an  adieu  before 
disappearing  behind  the  projecting  rock. 

A  little  silence  fell  after  they  were  gone. 

"  It  is  too  bad,  Hugh,"  said  Ada,  turning  to 
her  cousin,  "  that  I  should  have  spoiled  your 
ride." 

Hugh  laughed  cheerily. 

"  You  may  rest  assured,  Ada,  putting  chiv 
alry  aside,  that  I  feel  I  have  made  a  good  ex 
change.  The  fair  Louise  is  not  one  of  my 
especial  favorites,  perhaps  because  she  is  the 
one  young  lady  who  has  the  bad  taste  to  snub 
me.  The  fact  is,  between  ourselves,  Bruce 
stands  high  in  her  graces,  and  she  was  scarcely 
civil  to  me  as  we  rode  along." 

"  Oh,  you  must  not  tell  me  anybody's  secrets," 
said  Ada,  deprecatingly;  and  then  she  found 
herself  wondering  whether  Miss  Crofton  was 
the  sort  of  person  likely  to  influence  Bruce  for 
g«od.  She  was  about  to  ask  a  question,  arrd 
then  checked  herself. 

"  What  is  it,  Ada  ?  "  asked  Hugh.  "  You  have 
such  a  speaking  face,  that  I  know  you  were 
going  to  ask  me  something." 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  you  whether  Miss  Crof 
ton  was  a  member  of  the  church,  and  then  I 
hesitated  because  I  feared  that  you  might  share 


74 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


Bruce's  views  to  the  extent  of  not  caring  to 
speak  about  the  church  at  all." 

Hugh's  handsome  face  wore  a  perplexed  look 
for  a  moment. 

"  As  regards  Miss  Crofton,  I  have  an  idea 
that  she — well — that  she  does  not  go  in  for  re 
ligion  of  any  kind.  As  for  not  caring  to  speak 
of  the  church,  to  be  candid  with  you,  Ada,  I 
know  next  to  nothing  about  it." 

He  threw  himself  back  upon  the  wild  grass 
where  they  were  sitting,  and  looked  up  at  her 
with  such  honest  eyes  that  Ada  had  a  strange 
feeling  of  being  much  older — almost  as  though 
he  had  been  a  young,  ignorant  boy.  He  was, 
indeed,  little  else  as  regards  religious  teaching 
and  impressions. 

"  You  think  me  a  very  dreadful  fellow,  do 
you  not  ?"  he  said. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  gently  ;  "  no,  Hugh,  I  do 
not  think  you  at  all  dreadful.  I  have  every 
reason  to  think  you  the  very  opposite.  But, 
Hugh  " — she  paused,  and  her  clear  gray  eyes 
seemed  to  darken  with  the  intensity  of  her  feel 
ing — "  the  more  I  like  you,  the  more  it  grieves 
me  that  in  the  things  which  are  to  me  the 
most  sacred  and  the  most  dear,  there  should  be 
no  sympathy  between  us." 

If  any  one  had  told  Hugh  that  he  would  drift 


MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


75 


into  a  religious  conversation  with  his  cousin,  he 
would  have  been  strongly  tempted  not  to  have 
risked  a  tete  a  tete,  but  it  came  about  so  natur 
ally,  she  was  so  simple  and  so  earnest,  that  he 
found  himself,  to  his  own  amazement,  listening 
to  language  which  was  absolutely  new  to  him, 
on  a  subject  to  which — alas  !  that  it  must  be 
said — he,  in  common  with  many  and  many 
another  young  man  of  the  brightest  worldly 
promise,  had  never  devoted  an  hour's  serious 
thought.  It  may  have  been  that  the  solitude  and 
solemn  silence  of  the  place  gave  added  weight 
to  the  simple  words  of  deepest  meaning  which 
fell  from  the  young  girl's  lips. 

"I  cannot  tell  you,  Hugh,"  tightly  clasping 
her  hands  together  in  her  eagerness — "  I  cannot 
tell  you  how  much  you  lose  by  leaving  religion, 
as  I  understand  it,  out  of  your  lives.  It  seems 
to  me,  comparing  great  things  with  small, 
like  robbing  a  flower  of  its  perfume.  Life  is  so 
much  better  with  it,  so  much  higher,  and 
seems,  indeed,  so  meaningless  without  it.  Joys 
are  made  so  much  sweeter,  and  even  pain — yes, 
even  pain  is  made  a  blessing  by  it." 

It  is  wonderful  what  influence  young  minds 
may  exert  over  one  another.  It  is  doubtful 
if  any  older  person,  no  matter  how  eloquent 
or  how  convincing,  could  have  made  quite  the 


76  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

same  impression  on  Hugh's  mind  and  feelings 
as  did  Ada  in  the  unconscious  earnestness  of 
her  youth.  There  came  into  his  face  a  sort  of 
dawning  appreciation  of  her  meaning. 

"  You  have  a  way  of  recommending  religion," 
he  said,  coloring  as  he  spoke,  "which  makes 
me  feel  there  must  be  something  in  it,  but  yet, 
to  be  honest  with  you,  Ada,  I,  for  my  own  part, 
have  never  felt  the  need  of  it.  Does  it  seem 
strange  to  you  ?"  he  asked.  "  Why,  you  look  as 
if  you  were  sorry  for  me  !"  and  he  smiled,  half 
amused,  half  touched,  by  the  look  of  gentle  pity 
in  her  face. 

"  Yes,  Hugh,  very  sorry." 

He  laughed  a  little  good-naturedly, 

"  Well,  you  must  take  us  in  hand  ;  not  Bruce 
— I  fear  you  would  find  him  too  unmanageable 
— but  mother,  poor  mother,  and  Nettie,  and 
your  humble  servant  ;  perhaps  you  can  make 
something  of  us  yet." 

Ada  smiled  and  sighed. 

"  You'll  have  to  take  yourself  in  hand,  Hugh  ; 
all  that  I  ask  of  you  is  to  promise  me  that  you 
will  not  put  these  things  away  from  you,  as  of 
no  moment,  but  that  you  will  at  least  spend  a 
little  time  in  thinking  of  them." 

And  Hugh  promised. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  SUDDEN,  violent  rearing  motion  of  Aleppo, 
who  had  hitherto  been  contentedly  lunching 
under  the  sycamores,  startled  Ada  and  her 
cousin.  The  latter  sprang  to  his  feet  in  a  mo 
ment,  and,  before  Ada  had  time  to  wonder,  had 
darted  forward  to  the  excited  animal  and 
snatched  the  whip  from  its  place  in  the  buggy. 
Surely  he  was  not  going  to  punish  the  horse, 
thought  Ada,  with  a  woman's  dread  of  seeing 
pain  inflicted,  but  the  next  moment  she  saw 
what  drove  the  blood  from  her  cheek  to  her 
heart. 

Some  twenty  paces  distant,  slowly  drawing 
its  shining  length  from  a  crevice  in  the  rocks, 
and,  even  as  Ada  looked,  raising  its  dreadful 
head,  was  an  enormous  rattlesnake.  A  cry  of 
terror  escaped  her. 

"  O  Hugh,  Hugh,  come  back  !  " 

But  Hugh,  without  turning  toward  her,  shook 

his  left  hand  with  a  peremptory  gesture,  and, 

grasping  the  whip  in  his  right,  while  keeping 

his  eyes  warily  fixed  upon   the  snake,  took  a 

77 


78  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

step  or  two  in  its  direction.  Ada  felt  faint  with 
terror  ;  she  turned  away,  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands.  It  seemed  to  her  that  a  long, 
dreadful  time  had  passed,  but  in  reality  it  was 
only  a  very  few  minutes,  before  Hugh's  cheery 
voice  called  out  to  her  : 

"  All  right,  Ada  !  You  needn't  be  afraid  to 
look ;  he  won't  frighten  you  or  Aleppo  any 
more." 

There,  like  another  St.  George  over  the  Dra 
gon,  stood  Hugh,  his  handsome  face  flushed 
with  excitement,  bending  over  the  defunct  rat 
tlesnake. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  see  him  near  ?  Why, 
Ada,  I  thought  you  were  above  such  feminine 
weaknesses  !  " 

"  No,  Hugh,  I  am  nothing  but  a  poor  coward 
about  snakes.  Are  you  quite  sure  that  he  is 
dead  ?  " 

"  Well,  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  I  am 
going  to  cut  his  head  off,"  which  Hugh  pro 
ceeded  to  do.  "  Do  come  and  look  at  him  ;  he 
is  really  a  beauty." 

And  Ada,  inwardly  shuddering,  could  not 
seem  ungrateful  to  her  protecting  knight,  and 
unwillingly  approached  the  prostrate  foe. 

"  You  have  kept  your  pledge  of  being  my 
chivalrous  defender,"  she  said,  as  cheerfully  as 


THE  MUSGROVE  RAXCII.  Jg 

she  Could  ;  "  I  wonder  will  the  others  have  any 
trophies  to  show  !  " 

"  Not  likely,"  said  Hugh  ;  "  they  have  kept 
up  such  a  clatter  and  chatter,  that  the  snakes 
have  kept  out  of  their  way." 

Aleppo  was  still  quivering  with  his  late  ex 
citement  when  Ada  went  up  to  him.  She 
patted  his  arching  neck,  and  spoke  lovingly  and 
soothingly  to  him,  and  presently  he  quieted 
down,  and  laid  his  head  against  her  shoulder. 
She  was  still  patting  him  when  the  rest  of  the 
party  returned,  hungry,  but  in  high  spirits,  and 
were  greeted  by  the  sight  of  the  snake,  with 
which  Hugh  had  festooned  a  bough  of  a  syca 
more. 

"  See,"  said  Miss  Croftori,  pointing  to  it  with 
her  whip,  "  the  valiant  knight  has  slain  the 
dragon  !  " 

"  Have  none  of  you  anything  to  show  ?  " 
asked  Hugh,  derisively. 

"  No,  you  are  the  champion  of  the  day,"  said 
Nettie  ;  "  but  we  were  fondly  imagining  that 
you  and  Ada  would  have  had  our  luncheon  un 
packed  when  we  returned,  instead  of  being  oc 
cupied  with  rattlesnakes." 

The  cavaliers  helped  the  ladies  to  alight,  and 
then  Bruce  turned  to  Ada. 

"  Were  you  frightened  ?  "  he  asked. 


8o  THE  MUSGRGVE  RANCH. 

"  Yes,  miserably  frightened  ;  I  told  you  that 
I  should  be." 

"  What  a  confession  !  "  laughed  Miss  Crofton. 
"  Miss  Selwyn  afraid  !  " 

"It  is  best  to  be  honest,  is  it  not  ?"  said  Ada, 
with  a  direct  glance  into  the  young  lady's  dark 
eyes. 

There  was  something,  she  knew  not  what, 
almost  antagonistic  to  her,  in  this  handsome 
young  stranger  ;  an  almost  mocking  tone  in 
her  voice  when  she  addressed  her,  which  would 
have  easily  disconcerted  a  person  of  less  self- 
possession  and  refinement. 

They  were  a  very  happy,  merry  party  when 
the  luncheon  baskets  were  unpacked,  and  they 
were  grouped  about  them  in  easy  attitudes, 
enjoying  Mrs.  Musgrove's  chicken  pies  and 
other  delicacies. 

Ada  was  the  most  silent,  for  she  felt  herself, 
to  a  certain  extent,  still  a  stranger  amongst 
them,  and  her  conversation  with  her  two 
cousins  that  morning  had  somewhat  sad 
dened  her.  Neither  had  the  two  young  men 
forgotten  it.  Not  all  the  gay  sallies  and  little 
wiles  of  Miss  Crofton  had  restored  Bruce  to  his 
normal  state  of  proud  self-satisfaction  ;  for  had 
he  not  met,  for  the  first  time,  with  deliberate, 
unyielding  opposition  ?  While  as  for  Hugh, 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  8l 

even  while  taking  part  in  the  merry  jesting  go 
ing  on  around  him,  he  could  not  but  recall 
from  time  to  time  some  of  Ada's  words,  spoken 
with  such  direct  simplicity  and  earnestness, 
when  they  were  alone. 

The  afternoon  waned  only  too  quickly,  and 
the  sun  dropped,  prematurely  as  it  seemed,  be 
hind  the  vast  mountain  west  of  the  Canon. 
First  a  rosy  reflection  and  then  a  soft  shadow 
fell  around  the  merry  party,  and  unwillingly  it 
was  agreed  that  the  time  for  the  return  home 
had  come. 

Bruce  was  again  Ada's  companion,  for  he 
seemed  unwilling  to  trust  Aleppo  to  any  other 
driver.  The  two  were  silent  a  good  part  of 
the  distance  to  the  Canon-mouth,  which  they 
reached  in  time  to  see  a  second  sunset  in  the 
open.  Then  through  the  short  twilight  and  a 
lovely  moon-rise,  they  drove  on  down  the  long, 
gentle  incline.  How  intensely  would  Ada  have 
enjoyed  it,  had  she  not  felt  that  her  pleasant 
relation  with  her  cousin  had  been  sadly 
marred  ! 

The  mocking-birds  were  singing  their  loud 
est  when  they  drove  into  the  ranch,  and  the 
mingled  moonlight  and  shadows  made  it  seem 
like  fairy-land. 

"  How  lovely  this  is  !"  said  Ada,  involuntarily, 


82  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

"  I  wish  all  my  Eastern  friends  could  be  here 
to-night  !" 

"  Do  you  always  want  to  share  your  pleas 
ures  ?"  asked  Bruce. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  do— all  that  can  be  shared." 

"What  an  unselfish  girl  you  are  •?" 

"  Not  at  all  ;  do  you  not  think  our  pleasures 
are  increased  by  sharing  them  ?" 

"  My  philosophy  has  not  gone  out  in  that 
direction,"  laughed  Bruce  ;  "  I  fancy  if  you  ask 
my  character,  you  will  find  the  verdict  that  I 
am  a  very  self-contained  person,  and  do  not 
devote  much  thought  to  the  pleasures  of  other 
people." 

"  You  are  giving  yourself  too  bad  a  charac 
ter,  Bruce,"  exclaimed  Ada  ;  "  I,  for  one,  could 
not  pass  that  verdict  upon  you." 

"  It  is  a  true  one,  nevertheless,"he  said,  de 
fiantly.  "  Do  you  think  I  could  have  succeeded 
as  I  have,  had  I  not  devoted  myself  to  my  own 
aims  and  ends  and  not  wasted  time  on  other 
people  ?" 

They  had  reached  the  house,  and  Ada  had  no 
time  to  reply  to  a  speech  which  jarred  upon 
her  painfully.  So  the  day  ended  with  a  dis 
cord. 

Mrs.  Musgrove  was  on  the  look-out  for  the 
young;  people,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  Ada  to  see 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  83 

the  motherly  face  and  to  rest  her  head  for  a 
moment  on  her  aunt's  shoulder. 

"  Tired,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  little  tired,  auntie.  It  has  been  a 
wonderful  day,  but  I  feel  like  being  a  good 
child  and  going  straight  to  bed." 

Yet  after  she  had  gone  to  her  room  she  sat 
thinking  by  the  open  window,  in  the  darkness. 
And  after  a  while  Bruce  came  out  with  his 
cigar,  and  she  saw  his  tall  figure,  now  in  moon 
light,  now  in  shadow,  sauntering  to  and  fro. 
The  two  minds  were  occupied  with  each  other, 
but  how  differently !  It  was  with  a  prayer  for 
Bruce  upon  her  lips  that  Ada  at  last  fell  asleep, 
while  Bruce  himself  went  to  rest  prayerless. 

What  a  terrible  mist  ike  is  a  prayerless  life  ; 
what  a  misconception  of  its  own  meaning,  of  its 
relation  to  the  great  author  of  all  being  ;  what 
a  stifling  of  the  deeper,  higher  attributes  of  the 
human  soul  ! 

Alas  !  for  the  dull  ingratitude  that  loses 
sight  of  the  Giver  among  the  gifts,  that  grows 
unconscious  of  its  real  needs,  and  loses  all  per 
ception  of  the  glorious  end  for  which  we  were 
created. 

When  we  think  of  the  uncertainty  of  life,  of 
the  burdens  with  which  it  is  freighted,  of  human 
helplessness  in  the  face  of  the  awful  forces  by 


84  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

which  we  are  surrounded,  it  becomes  a  marvel 
ous  as  well  as  a  melancholy  thing  that  there 
should  be  so  many,  even  among  those  endowed 
with  noble  mental  gifts,  who  have  thus  cut 
themselves  adrift  from  God. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

AT  the  breakfast  -  table,  on  the  following 
Sunday,  Ada  turned  to  Hugh. 

"  Will  you  drive  me  over  to  Caliente, 
Hugh  ?"  she  asked,  in  her  direct,  simple  way. 
"  I  do  not  care,  unless  in  case  of  necessity,  to 
repeat  my  last  Sunday's  experience  with  poor, 
dear  Billy,  and  I  must  go  to  service. 

There  was  just  a  moment's  pause  before 
Hugh  answered. 

Mrs.  Musgrove  began  filling  the  coffee-cups 
in  a  reckless  manner.  Bruce  turned  quite  pale, 
which  was  an  ominous  sign,  and  Nettie  looked 
from  one  to  the  other  curiously. 

•'  I  am  at  your  service,  Ada,"  replied  Hugh  ; 
"  for  the  honor  of  the  Musgrove  name  I  cannot 
let  you  drive  Ichabod  to  Caliente  again." 

Bruce  bit  his  lips  to  keep  back  the  words 
which  his  common  sense  told  him  had  better 
be  left  unsaid.  For,  after  all,  though  hitherto 
Hugh  had  almost  invariably  allowed  himself 
to  be  guided  if  not  controlled  by  his  elder 

85 


86  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

brother,  yet  he  was  a  man,  and  entitled  to  a 
man's  liberty  of  action. 

It  made  it  none  the  less  exasperating  to  find 
that  his  (Bruce's)  will  and  pleasure  should  be 
ignored,  and  that  Ada  should  be  the  means  of 
his  authority  being  set  aside  in  his  own  family. 
He  could  not  altogether  refrain. 

"  You  understand,  Hugh,  that  I  enter  my 
protest  against  any  of  our  family  going  to  Mr. 
Ashleigh's  church.  Ada  knows  my  views — I 
need  say  nothing  more.  You  are  not  children, 
and  I  cannot  forbid  your  going." 

"  I  am  more  than  sorry,  Bruce,"  said  Ada, 
"to  give  you  any  annoyance,  but  as  I  told  you 
the  other  day,  I  do  not  consider  that  I  have 
any  choice.  I  must  attend  church  even  at  the 
risk  of  your  displeasure." 

Bruce  vouchsafed  no  reply,  and  Hugh 
thought  it  best  to  remain  silent  also,  though 
sorely  tempted  to  make  an  angry  reply  to  his 
brother. 

A  drive  with  Hugh  behind  a  horse  only 
inferior  to  Aleppo  was  a  very  different  thing 
from  a  solitary  drive  with  Billy  ;  and  Caliente 
was  reached  in  what  seemed  an  incredibly 
short  time  to  Ada.  The  place  looked  just  as 
it  had  on  the  previous  Sundays,  but  passing 
the  "saloons  "  at  a  rapid  pace  with  Hugh  was 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  87 

so  much  better  than  creeping  past  them  with 
the  old  horse  alone  ! 

The  cousins  had  not  conversed  much  as  they 
drove  along,  but  now,  as  they  approached  the 
church,  Ada  asked  Hugh  if  he  had  ever  seen  it 
inside,  and  he  replied  in  the  negative. 

"  You  are  going  in  with  me  to-day,  are  you 
not,  Hugh  ?"  she  asked.  If  only  she  could  bring 
him  into  contact  with  Mr.  Ashleigh,  she  felt 
that  a  great  step  would  be  gained. 

"  Well,  no,"  he  answered,  a  little  awkward 
ly  ;  "  I  thought  of  taking  a  drive,  and  coming 
back  for  you." 

"  Ah,  Hugh !  have  you  forgotten  all  we 
talked  about  in  the  Canon  ?  Come  in  with  me  ; 
you  will  not  regret  it." 

And  Hugh,  as  much  as  anything  to  show 
his  independence  of  his  brother,  after  a  little 
further  entreaty  on  Ada's  part,  consented. 

Years,  absolutely  years,  had  passed  since  the 
young  man  had  entered  a  place  of  worship,  and 
it  was  with  a  strange  hesitancy  that  he  did  sq 
now.  Ada  had  preceded  him,  and  he  found  her. 
kneeling  alone  in  the  little  building.  He  stood 
for  a  few  moments  near  the  entrance  before  he 
joined  her.  The  stillness,  the  subdued  light, 
the  altar  in  its  chaste  simplicity,  with  the  plain, 
burnished  cross  and  beautiful  flowers,  the  soli- 


88  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

tary,  kneeling  figure — there  was  something  in  it 
all  that  impressed  him  in  a  way  for  which  he 
could  not  have  accounted.  He  was  touched  by 
a  new  influence,  one  altogether  outside  the 
ordinary  circle  of  his  ideas  and  feelings.  Ada 
rose  from  her  knees,  and  looked  round  at  him, 
with  a  smile  that  seemed  one  of  affectionate 
welcome,  as  he  took  his  place  beside  her. 

"  Is  it  not  a  dear  little  church  ?  "  she  said, 
softly  ;  "  confess  that  you  are  pleased  with  it." 

"  I  am,"  he  said  ;  "  it  is  so  different  from 
what  I  expected." 

Just  then  Mr.  Ashleigh  entered  the  church, 
but  not  accompanied  by  his  wife  to-day.  He 
looked  even  more  careworn  than  on  the  previ 
ous  Sunday,  but  his  face  brightened  at  the  sight 
of  Ada,  and  then  an  expression  of  astonishment 
passed  over  it,  when  the  young  girl  introduced 
her  companion  as  her  cousin,  Mr.  Hugh  Mus- 
grove. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Musgrove,"  said 
the  clergyman,  kindly  ;  "  for  many  reasons, 
among  the  rest,  that  your  cousin  has  had  an 
escort  to  Caliente." 

"  It  was  not  my  fault  that  she  had  none  last 
Sunday,"  replied  Hugh,  coloring  a  little,  for  to 
be  thought  lacking  in  gallantry  touched  him  in 
a  sensitive  point. 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  89 

"  No,  Hugh  did  not  know  last  Sunday  that 
I  was  coming,"  said  Ada  promptly,  and  then 
she  inquired  for  Mrs.  Ashleigh. 

"  My  wife  is  not  so  well,"  replied  the  clergy 
man,  and  the  shadow  came  over  his  face  again. 
"  She  has  had  a  slight  hemorrhage  during  the 
week,  and  I  could  not  allow  her  to  risk  the  fa 
tigue  of  the  walk  and  the  service.  May  I — will 
you  play  for  us  again  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  only  too  glad  if  I  may.  I  am  so 
sorry,"  she  added  earnestly,  "to  hear  about  your 
wife.  "Would  she  care,  do  you  think,  to  see 
me  after  service  for  a  little  while  ? " 

"  You  would  do  her  more  good  than  any 
doctor,"  he  answered,  smiling.  "  I  will  show 
you  where  we  live." 

He  left  them  to  prepare  for  service,  and  Ada 
took  her  place  at  the  organ. 

Hugh  changed  his  seat,  also,  for  one  less  con 
spicuous.  In  fact,  he  felt  somewhat  out  of  place 
and  ill  at  ease. 

Then  Ada  began  a  low,  sweet  prelude,  and 
her  cousin,  being  passionately  fond  of  music, 
became,  all  unconsciously,  attuned  to  his  sur 
roundings.  How  low  and  tender  were  those 
chords,  even  on  the  unpretending  little  instru 
ment  !  They  seemed  to  plead  to  the  soul,  to 
whispsr  of  another,  higher  world  than  that  of 


9o 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


human  joys  and  sorrows,  and  then  how  solemn 
and  deep,  like  a  voice,  speaking  in  awful  and 
yet  loving  warning,  of  righteousness,  temper 
ance,  and  judgment  to  come. 

A  somewhat  larger  congregation  than  on 
Ada's  first  Sunday  gathered  in  the  little  church, 
most  of  them  inhabitants  of  Caliente,  a  few 
from  out-lying  ranches,  amongst  the  latter,  one 
or  two  of  the  Musgrove  friends. 

The  service  came  to  Hugh  with  the  force  of 
novelty,  so  long  was  it  since  he  had  attended 
it,  and,  in  his  then  frame  of  mind,  its  solemnity 
and  simple  reverence  touched  him.  Mr.  Ash- 
leigh's  sermon,  too,  profoundly  earnest  and 
practical,  could  not  be  without  its  effect. 

Hugh  remained  seated  until  the  people  had 
dispersed;  he  did  not  care  to  face  the  astonish 
ment  of  his  acquaintances  at  seeing  him  at 
church. 

"  It  is  not  very  far  to  our  house,"  said  Mr. 
Ashleigh,  having  declined  Hugh's  offer  of  a  seat ; 
"if  you  will  drive  slowly,  I  will  walk  along  with 
you." 

As  Ada  had  supposed,  the  cottage  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  town,  which  she  had  noticed  on 
the  occasion  of  her  first  visit  to  Caliente,  was 
the  parsonage,  if  indeed  it  could  be  dignified  by 
that  name.  It  was,  in  fact,  so  poor  and  roughly 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  gl 

constructed  a  dwelling  that  only  a  climate  like 
Southern  California,  could  have  made  it  habi 
table.  But  the  climate  had  also  embellished  it 
with  exquisite  creeping  plants,  and  climbing 
roses,  and  shaded  it  from  the  fierce  sun  with  a 
group  of  Eucalyptus  and  pepper  trees. 

Mr.  Ashleigh  helped  Ada  to  alight,  and 
Hugh  said  he  would  drive  on  and  return  for  his 
cousin. 

"I  hoped  so  much  that  you  would  come  to 
see  me,"  said  Mrs.  Ashleigh,  coming  with  out 
stretched  hands  to  meet  her  visitor.  "  I  really 
had  a  presentiment  that  you  would." 

Ada  kissed  the  delicate,  flushed  face,  and  sat 
down  beside  her. 

"  I  have  been  wanting  so  much  to  see  you," 
she  said  ;  "you  are  so  like  a  friend  of  mine  whom 
I  loved  very  dearly.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  known 
you  ever  so  long." 

"  Was  she — ?  "  Mrs.  Ashleigh  checked  her 
self,  but  there  was  a  sweet,  wistful  look  in  her 
eyes  that  almost  brought  tears  to  Ada's. 

"  We  have  had  such  a  beautiful  service,"  she 
said  quickly  ;  "  only  I  missed  you." 

Mr.  Ashleigh,  who  had  lingered  a  moment  to 
speak  to  Hugh,  came  into  the  room,  and  while 
he  exchanged  a  loving  greeting  with  his  wife, 
Ada  glanced  at  her  surroundings.  Toonenur- 


92 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


tured  as  she  had  been,  it  was  indeed  a  poor 
home.  With  the  exception  of  a  comfortable 
easy-chair,  there  v/as  nothing  which  did  not 
betoken  straitened  circumstances,  while  at 
the  same  time  the  refinement  of  the  occupants 
was  equally  visible.  Home-made  shelves  laden 
with  books,  some  beautiful  flowers,  and  one 
choice,  slightly  framed  engraving  on  the  walls, 
Holman  Hunt's  "Shadows  of  the  Cross." 

"  My  husband  would  not  let  me  go,"  said 
Mrs.  Ashleigh,  answering  Ada.  "  I  begged 
hard,  but  he  can  be  a  tyrant  sometimes  "  ;  this 
with  her  slender  hand  clasping  his,  and  a  look 
of  contented  love  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  have  brought  you  some  peaches,  because 
you  were  a  good  girl,"  he  said,  drawing  some 
not  very  choice  ones  from  his  pocket.  "  I 
stopped  at  Chessley's  on  my  way  to  church." 

Ada  thought  of  the  magnificent  fruit  with 
which  the  trees  on  her  cousins'  ranch  were 
literally  bowed  down  ;  she  thought,  too,  of  the 
affluence  and  luxury  in  which  they  lived,  with 
out  one  thought,  alas  !  of  those  who  were  living 
in  the  cold  shadow  of  poverty  and  neglect,  yet 
content  could  they  but  do  some  work  for  Him, 
who,  blessed  thought,  was  the  "Man  of  sor 
rows,  and  acquainted  with  grief." 


THE  MUSGROVE  RAKC7T.  93 

"  Who  drove  you  over  from  the  ranch  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Ashleigh. 

"  Ah,  there  v/e  have  a  surprise  for  you,"  said 
her  husband,  cheerily,  "  though,  to  say  the 
truth,  Miss  Selwyn,  my  wife  is  already  con 
vinced  that  you  are  a  wonder  worker,  so  that 
she  may  take  it  quite  as  a  matter  of  course 
when  she  hears  that  one  of  the  Messrs.  Mus- 
grove  were  at  service  to-day." 

"No,  I  am  not  surprised.  I  think  Miss  Scl- 
wyn's  coming  began  a  new  era." 

"  Ah,  dear  Mrs.  Ashleigh  !  may  you  be  a 
true  prophet  !  I  wish  I  had  the  faith  to  believe 
as  much." 

"  You  will  probably  be  the  last  one  to  realize 
it,"  the  clergyman  said,  "  but  my  wife  may  be 
quite  right;  your  coming  maybe  the  means  to 
carry  out  one  of  God's  good  purposes." 

An  hour  had  passed  very  quickly,  when 
Hugh  drove  up  to  the  garden  gate,  and  Ada 
unwillingly  parted  from  the  Ashleighs,  prom 
ising  to  come  again  at  the  first  opportunity. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"THAT  is  a  poor  sort  of  parsonage,"  said 
Hugh,  when  they  had  driven  a  little  way  in 
silence  ;  "a  rough  place  altogether  for  people  of 
refinement." 

"  What  did  you  think  of  Mr.  Ashleigh  ?"  ask 
ed  Ada. 

"  He  seems  a  man  of  ability  and  culture," 
replied  Hugh,  somewhat  hesitatingly  ;  "  a  man 
of  character,  and,  I  should  judge,  very  much  in 
earnest. 

"  Yes,  and  that  explains  why  such  a  man 
and  such  a  woman  as  his  wife  are  content  to 
live  in  a  place  like  Caliente,  and  in  a  home  like 
that  miserable  little  place.  Ah,  Hugh  !  it 
made  my  heart  ache  to  see  Mrs.  Ashleigh  to 
day." 

"  Why  ?"  said  Hugh,  with  half  unwilling  in 
terest  ;  "  was  she  very  sick  ?" 

"  If  you  had  seen  her,  Hugh,  I  know  your 
impulse  would  have  been  the  same  as  mine — a 
longing  to  do  something  for  her  !  Why,  they 
need  what  you  would  call  almost  the  neces- 

94 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


95 


sarics  of  life.  And  she  looks  so  frail  ! — I  won 
der — " 

"  What  ?" 

"  I  wonder  if  your  mother — but  I  should  not 
say  that.  I  know  that  I  have  but  to  tell  her 
what  I  have  seen  to  make  her  want  to  do  all  in 
her  power  for  Mrs.  Ashleigh,  but — there  is 
Bruce  !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Hugh,  angrily,  "  and  Bruce  is  as 
easily  touched,  where  he  has  once  made  up  his 
mind,  as  the  '  nether- millstone  !'  Well,  he 
has  found  to-day  that  I  for  one  presume  to 
have  a  will  of  my  own." 

Ada  was  silent  ;  it  pained  her  to  hear  Hugh 
pronounce  so  harsh  a  verdict  on  his  brother, 
though  Bruce  had  given  her  little  cause  to 
think  that  it  was  undeserved,  and  she  would 
fain  have  championed  him,  for,  in  despite  of 
Bruce's  apparent  harshness,  she  still  believed 
in  his  better  and  nobler  nature. 

"  It  is  a  great  grief  to  me,  Hugh,"  she  said 
at  last,  hesitatingly,  that  I  should  be  the  cause 
of  any  difference  between  you,  and  yet,  being 
here.  I  cannot  take  any  other  course.  I  have 
thought  seriously,  the  last  day  or  two,  that  it 
might  be  best  for  me  to  give  up  my  pleasant 
home  with  you  all.  And  then,  again,  it  seems 
as  if  perhaps — though  it  may  seem  presump- 


96  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

tuous  to  say  so — as  if  there  might  be  a  purpose 
in  my  coming." 

"  I  should  say  there  was  a  purpose,"  said 
Hugh,  vehemently  ;  "  don't  let  me  hear  the 
smallest  hint  of  your  leaving  us.  I  shall  have 
to  consider  you  my  prisoner,  and — yes — I  shall 
put  you  on  parole." 

Ada  could  not  help  laughing  quite  heartily, 
Hugh  was  so  much  in  earnest. 

"  Well,  if  you  really  want  me  to  stay,  you 
rmist  promise  me  not  to  have  any  scene  with 
Bruce.  But  perhaps  Bruce  himself  might  wish 
me  to  go  away  !" 

"  Nonsense,  Ada,"  said  Hugh,  indignantly  ; 
"  and  even  if  it  were  so,  I  hope  you  do  not 
consider  him  an  absolute  authority  !" 

"  No,  but  if  I  thought  that  any  of  you  would 
be  the  happier  for  my  absence,  you  may  be 
sure,  Hugh,  that  I  could  not  stay." 

She  spoke  seriously,  even  sadly,  and  Hugh 
felt  really  troubled. 

"Why,  Ada,"  he  said,  "you  are  taking  this 
matter  of  Bruce  too  much  to  heart.  It  is  true 
that  he  has  grown  to  be  something  of  a  tyrant 
at  home,  but,  after  all,  he  is  a  Musgrove,  and 
would  feel  as  badly  as  any  of  us  at  his  affection 
for  you  being  called  in  question." 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so." 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


97 


"Of  course  I  think  so.  The  fact  is,  Ada,  we 
have  all  given  way  to  Bruce- — perhaps  more 
than  is  good  for  him.  You  see  he  is  a  clever, 
ambitious  fellow,  and  from  a  boy  has  had  the 
faculty  of  managing  people  better  than  I  shall 
do  when  I  am  twice  his  age,"  he  added  laugh 
ing;  "  and  I  have  to  confess  that  the  Musgrove 
Ranch  would  not  be  what  it  is  to-day,  if  Hugh 
instead  of  Bruce  Musgrove  had  been  at  the 
head  of  affairs." 

"  How  long  is  it  since  Uncle  Musgrove  died  ? 
I  know  that  I  was  quite  a  child." 

"  I  was  not  much  more  than  a  child  myself, 
and  Bruce  was  only  sixteen.  Mother  will  tell 
you  that  he  seemed  to  take  the  whole  burden 
of  care  upon  his  shoulders,  and  that  he  made 
the  farm-hands  respect  and  obey  him  from  the 
first." 

In  spite  of  Hugh's  sudden  assertion  of  inde 
pendence,  he  was  at  heart  a  warm  admirer  of 
his  brother,  and  once  launched  upon  the  sub 
ject,  he  went  on  to  speak  of  Bruce's  untiring 
energy,  self-denial  and  success  in  a  way  which 
might  have  wearied  a  hearer  less  interested 
than  Ada. 

But  Ada,  unconsciously  to  herself,  wanted 
to  regain  her  first  opinion'  of  Bruce,  and  Hugh 
found  in  her  a  willing  listener. 


98  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

The  ranch  looked  more  than  usually  beauti 
ful  to  Ada,  when  they  left  the  brown,  barren 
land  for  the  broad  shadows  of  the  great  pep 
per-trees  bordering  the  drive.  Among  the 
glossy  foliage  of  the  long  ranks  of  orange-trees 
the  fruit  was  beginning  to  mellow  into  spheres 
of  gold.  The  house  itself,  with  all  the  signs  of 
taste  and  opulence,  had  never  impressed  her  as 
looking  so  attractive  as  it  did  in  contrast  to 
the  rude  dwelling  of  the  Ashleighs.  In  the 
long,  shaded  dining-room  the  table  was  set 
for  lunch  with  snowy  linen,  delicate  china,  lus 
cious  fruits  and  other  delicacies. 

Mrs.  Musgrove,  looking  rather  anxious,  sat 
awaiting  them. 

"  You  have  been  a  long  time  gone,"  she  said 
a  little  querulously.  "  Bruce  took  Nettie  over 
to  the  Croftons  to  spend  the  day,  and  I  thought 
I  should  have  to  sit  down  to  luncheon  alone." 

"  I  wish  you  had  been  with  us,  dear  auntie," 
said  Ada,  as  she  took  her  place  at  the  table 
beside  her,  while  Hugh  took  his  brother's  seat 
at  the  head  of  the  table.  "  We  have  had  a 
beautiful  service,  and  Hugh  will  tell  you  what  a 
dear  little  church  it  is." 

"  Why — was  Hugh  at  church  with  you  ?" 

There  was  a  look'  of  surprise,  half  painful, 
half  pleasurable,  in  the  mother's  face.  She  was 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


99 


devoted  to  all  her  children,  but  Hugh  was 
perhaps  her  favorite  child,  the  most  responsive 
to  his  mother's  affection. 

"Why,  Hughie  !  I  wish  I  had  been  with 
you."  And  then  she  said,  half  to  herself,  "  It 
is  years  since  I  was  at  church." 

Ada  was  unspeakably  touched  by  her  aunt's 
look  and  words. 

"  You  will  come  with  us  next  time,  auntie,'* 
she  said  tenderly  ;  "it  will  be  a  happy,  happy 
day  for  me  when  we  go  together." 

"  But  Bruce — "  faltered  Mrs.  Musgrove. 

"  Who  knows  but  we  shall  conquer  Bruce 
himself,"  said  Ada,  almost  gayly,  encouraged  by 
success  to  be  unreasonably  sanguine. 

The  three  had  a  pleasant  afternoon  together. 
Hugh  admired  and  liked  his  cousin  so  much, 
that  he  was  content  to  give  up  his  usual  Sunday 
afternoon  excursion  to  spend  it  in  her  society  ; 
while  Mrs.  Musgrove  was  always  happy  with 
her  children. 

They  sat  under  the  live-oak,  as  Ada  had  done 
alone,  and  Hugh  realized,  as  he  had  never  done 
before,  that  there  was  a  special  beauty  and 
peace  about  his  home  on  Sunday. 

Ada  proposed  that  Hugh  should  read  some 
thing  to  his  mother  and  herself,  and  ran  into 
the  house  for  a  book  which  she  thought  would 


IOO  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

interest,  and  might  influence,  the  young  man— 
the  "  Life  of  Charles  Kingsley." 

Hugh  was  a  good  reader,  though  not  a  prac 
ticed  one,  and  soon  the  story  of  that  remarkable 
life  mastered  his  attention  so  completely  that 
he  read  with  entire  unconsciousness  of  self.  It 
was  the  first  book  of  the  kind  he  had  ever  read, 
and  one  which  of  his  own  choice  he  would  not 
have  thought  of  reading  ;  but  the  personal  in 
fluence  of  Kfngsley — that  intense  nature  which 
touched  so  wide  a  circle  by  the  force  of  his0 
strong  human  sympathies — seemed  even  in  the 
recital  to  lay  hold  of  Hugh,  and  he  read  on  with 
a  zest  far  exceeding  Ada's  hopes. 

The  shadows  began  to  lengthen  before  he 
laid  down  the  book,  and  then  only  at  his 
mother's  suggestion. 

"  Hugh,  you  are  a  fine  reader,"  said  Ada,  with 
enthusiasm.  "  I  never  enjoyed  Kingsley  so 
much  before." 

"  A  noble  life,  is  it  not  ?  " 

Hugh's  eyes  were  bright  with  a  warm  inter 
est.  He  had  passed  into  a  range  of  thought 
and  feeling  altogether  new. 

"  A  man  among  men  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I 
never  realized  that  our  present  world  could 
produce  such  people  !  " 

"  Ah,  but  it  can  !  "  said  Acla,  her  face  bright- 


THE  M  USG  ROVE  RANCH. 


ening  as  she  spoke,  "  there  are  not  a  few  such 
lives  that  we  may  read  of,  Hugh,  and  how 
many  more  that  only  God  knows  of!  —  lives  of 
a  perfect  self-sacrifice,  a  noble  devotion,  which 
can  have  but  one  source  !  " 

"  Auntie,"  she  continued,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Musgrove,  "  I  have  been  wanting  to  speak  to 
you  about  Mr.  Ashleigh  and  his  wife.  You  may 
think  it  strange  that  I  should  feel  such  a  deep 
interest  in  them  already,  but  it  is  because  I 
have  a  firm  conviction  that  theirs  are  such  lives 
as  I  was  speaking  of" 

Mrs.  Musgrove,  with  a  look  of  awakened  in 
terest,  began  to  question  her  niece,  and  Ada 
answered  eagerly. 

She  was  sitting  on  alow  garden  seat,  and  the 
sun,  very  near  its  setting  now,  threw  a  soft 
glow  over  her  fair,  expressive  face.  She  might 
have  set  for  a  picture  of  Charity,  as  she  ex 
tended  her  shapely  hands,  with  an  unconsci 
ously  pleading  gesture;  and  Hugh  thought  his 
cousin  was  growing  prettier  every  day. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

IT  was  just  then  that  the  sound  of  laughter 
and  the  clatter  of  horses'  feet  broke  upon  the 
evening  stillness.  Bruce  and  Nettie,  with  Miss 
Crofton  and  her  brother,  rode  at  a  hand-gallop 
up  the  avenue.  As  they  approached  the  group 
under  the  live-oak,  Bruce  grew  suddenly  silent. 
He  had  an  eye  for  picturesque  effects,  and  it 
may  have  been  that  he  was  struck  with  the  pic 
ture — his  mother  with  her  soft,  white  hair  and 
gentle  face,  thrown  into  relief  by  her  dress  of 
some  rich,  subdued  color  ;  Hugh  reclining  at 
her  feet,  his  face  turned  admiringly  towards  his 
cousin;  and  Ada  herself  in  her  dress  of  simple 
white  with  the  sunlight  on  her. 

"  Quite  idyllic,  is  it  not  ?"  said  Miss  Crofton 
in  her  pretty  mocking  voice,  but  Bruce's  an 
swer,  if  he  made  any,  was  lost  in  the  bustle  of 
dismounting. 

"  We  have  brought  Louise  and  Carl  back  to 
dinner,  mother,"  said  Nettie,  as  she  stooped  to 
give  her  mother  a  little  kiss.  Both  the  lady- 
equestrians  were  looking  their  best  in  their  be 
coming  habits. 

102 


THE  MUSGRCVE  RANCH.  103 

"  Always  -glad  to  see  you,  my  dear,"  said 
Mrs.  Musgrove,  with  cheerful  hospitality,  giving 
her  hand  to  Miss  Crofton,  who  also  kissed  her 
with  much  demonstration  of  affection,  and  then 
somewhat  coldly  shook  hands  with  Ada. 

Carl  Crofton  was  tall  and  handsome,  like  his 
sister,  and  a  devoted  admirer  of  Nettie. 

Ada  waited  in  vain  for  a  glance  or  word  from 
Bruce.  Having  helped  Miss  Crofton  to  dis 
mount,  he  had  taken  her  horse  with  his  own  to 
the  stables,  and  his  cousin  did  not  see  him  again 
till  dinner. 

Miss  Crofton  sat  beside  him  and  quite  com 
manded  his  attention  during  the  meal.  She 
was  full  of  vivacity,  clever  and  gay,  and  certainly 
attractive;  and  Bruce,  who  was  generally  rather 
taciturn,  talked  more  than  Ada  had  yet  heard 
him.  The  conversation  turned  chiefly  on  per 
sons  and  events  of  local  interest,  with  a  running 
fire  of  amusing,  often  satirical,  comment  from 
Miss  Crofton.  Ada  sat  for  the  most  part  silent ; 
the  conversation  had  not  much  interest  for  her, 
and  she  would  have  liked  to  retire  to  her  own 
room  when  the  party  adjourned  to  the  drawing- 
room,  but  her  aunt  took  her  arm. 

"Are  you  not  well,  my  dear?"  she  asked 
affectionately  ;  and  Ada  had  to  answer  that  she 
was,  and  so  had  no  excuse  for  withdrawing. 


104 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


The  young  people  gathered  about  the  piano, 
and,  at  Bruce's  request,  Miss  Crofton  sang.  Her 
voice  was  powerful  and  well  trained,  and  she 
sang,  with  perfect  self-possession,  some  rather 
showy  songs. 

Ada  had  never  been  accustomed  to  secular 
music  on  Sundays,  and  could  not  enjoy  it.  Song 
after  song  Miss  Crofton  sang,  most  of  them 
specially  for  Bruce,  but  at  last  she  rose  from  the 
piano,  and  Hugh  asked  Ada  to  sing,  and,  when 
she  declined,  gayly  insisted.  Unwillingly  she 
took  her  seat  at  the  instrument,  and  ran  her 
fingers  softly  over  the  keys.  She  would  sing 
nothing  secular,  and  she  felt  that  sacred  music 
must  seem  out  of  place  here 

At  last  her  pure,  cultured  voice  began  that 
beautiful  and  touching  hymn,  "  Lead,  kindly 
Light,"  and  a  strange  silence  fell  upon  them  all. 
Bruce  had  strolled  to  an  open  window.  For 
the  first  time  that  evening  he  was  alone.  The 
moonlight  lay  silver  white  upon  the  garden,  and 
the  evening  air  came  to  him  freighted  with  the 
perfume  of  violets,  of  which  there  was  a  large 
bed  in  the  shelter  of  the  house.  The  beautiful 
melody  and  touching  words  seemed  to  blend 
with  the  moonlight  and  perfume,  and,  in  spite 
of  the  harshness  of  his  feeling  towards  Ada, 
and  his  boasted  lack  of  sympathy  with  the  sen- 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  105 

timent  of  the  hymn,  he  listened  spell-bound. 
He  listened  until,  with  the  last  lovely  words, 

' '  And  with  the  morn  those  angel  faces  smile, 
Which  I  have  loved  long  since  arid  lost  awhile," 

sung  with  intense,  pathetic  feeling,  the  tender 
tones  had  ceased.  His  was  the  only  voice  that 
did  not  say  anything  in  praise  of  the  singer. 
Mrs.  Musgrove  and  Hugh  expressed  their  de 
light,  Nettie  her  surprise. 

"  I  really  did  not  know  that  you  could  sing 
like  that,  Ada,"  she  said. 

Young  Crofton  murmured  something  polite, 
while  his  sister  declared  that  Miss  Selwyn  was 
really  quite  dramatic  in  her  style.  Hugh  urged 
his  cousin  to  sing  again,  but  she  begged  to  be 
excused. 

There  was  no  more  music  after  that,  and  the 
conversation  was  not  quite  so  lively  as  before. 
Miss  Crofton  asked  Bruce  to  show  her  some 
plans  he  had  been  drawing  of  a  new  town  which 
some  enterprising  land-owners  of  the  Valley 
were  talking  of  founding,  Bruce  as  usual  taking 
the  lead  in  the  new  scheme.  He  had  spoken  of 
it  to  Ada,  owning  that  it  was  his  darling  pro 
ject,  and  had  promised  to  show  her  the  plans,  but 
that  was  before  the  coolness  which  had  sprung 
up  between  them,  and  which  she,  for  her  part, 


IO6  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

had  tried  in  vain  to  overcome.  He  got  the 
drawings  now,  at  Miss  Crofton's  request,  and 
placed  a  lamp  on  a  little  table  apart,  that  she 
might  the  better  examine  them. 

Was  it  mere  forgetfulness  or  an  intentional 
omission,  Ada  wondered,  that  he  did  not  ask 
his  cousin  to  join  them  ?  She  glanced  once  at 
the  two  heads  bending  over  the  papers,  and  then 
joined  her  aunt,  who  was  sitting  on  a  distant 
sofa. 

•  "  I  want  to  say  a  little  more  about  the  Ash- 
leighs,"  said  Ada,  "while  we  can  have  a  chat 
toourselves.  She  is  in  a  wretched  state  of  health, 
and  looks  as  if  she  might  not  live  much  longer. 
But  you  know,  Auntie,  what  careful  treatment 
and  nourishment  will  do.  With  these  she  might 
be  spared  to  her  husband  for  years  to  come — 
without  them,  he  will  lose  her  soon.  And, 
Auntie,  they  are  everything-  to  each  other." 

"  Poor  things,"  said  Mrs.  Musgrove  compas 
sionately  ;  "  my  dear,  what  can  I  do  for  them  ?" 

"  Ah,  so  much  !  you  have  such  an  abundance  ! 
a  larder  overflowing  with  good  things,  while 
they,  I  am  certain,  have  the  poorest  and  most 
meagre  food.  Then  there  is  the  kindness,  the 
personal  kindness  that  is  so  sweet,  so  comfort 
ing,  and  of  which  so  little  is  shown  them  by 
those  who  could  do  so  most  easily.  Auntie, 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


107 


you  must  surely  know  how  it  pains  me  to  feel 
that  I  am  vexing  Bruce,  but  I  must  follow  the 
dictates  of  my  conscience.  It  is  not  merely 
that  my  heart  is  touched  by  what  I  have  seen 
of  Mr.  Ashleigh  and  his  wife,  but  that  I  am  con 
strained,  yes,  I  am  constrained  to  be  faithful  to 
the  Church  ;  and  being  so  includes  my  loving 
interest  and  care  for  her  clergy.  I  know  I  may 
speak  freely  to  you.  You  will  not  be  angry 
with  me.  You  almost  dread  the  thought  of  do 
ing  what  Bruce  disapproves,  but  remember  you 
have  to  answer  for  yourself.  And  you  are  his 
mother  ;  it  is  you,  and  not  Bruce,  who  should  be 
an  authority  in  such  matters." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,  of  course,"  faltered  Mrs. 
Musgrove,  "but,  my  dear  child,  I  have  always 
relied  on  him  so  much." 

"  Yes,  and  in  many  ways  rightly,  but  there 
are  things  in  which  you  cannot  rely  upon  him. 
You  must  not  let  him  stand  between  you  and 
your  duty.  And  of  this  I  am  sure  :  in  the  end 
he  will  respect  you  the  more  for  doing  what  you 
feel  to  be  right." 

In  her  earnestness  Ada  had  laid  her  hand 
upon  Mrs.  Musgrove's  arm,  and  her  voice, 
though  so  low  that  only  her  aunt  could  hear 
her  words,  reached  Bruce's  ear,  as  he  bent  over 
his  drawings  with  Miss  Crofton,  at  the  other 


108  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

end  of  the  long  room.  He  looked  up  and  saw 
the  fair,  pleading  face,  as  he  had  seen  it  at  sun 
set  under  the  live-oak.  And  again  a  feeling 
for  which  he  could  not  account,  a  sharp  sense 
of  pain,  yet  with  an  underlying  joy,  passed 
through  and  through  him.  Ada  was  all  un 
conscious,  but  Miss  Crofton  had  followed  Bruce's 
glance,  and  noted  that  he  seemed  for  a  moment 
to  lose  his  interest  in  the  darling  project  which 
had  so  strongly  aroused  her  own. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Musgrove,  with  a  sigh,  "  I 
am  afraid  I  have  made  idols  of  my  children,  or, 
at  least,  I  have  lost  sight  of  any  other  duties  in 
living  for  them." 

She  spoke  so  meekly  and  penitently  that  the 
tears  came  to  her  niece's  eyes. 

"  It  looks  so  presumptuous  in  me,"  she  said 
tenderly,  "  to  speak  to  you  as  I  do,  but  I  can 
not  help  it,  Auntie.  You  will  forgive  me,  I 
know.  It  is  because  I  love  you  so  well  and 
know  how  good  you  are,  that  I  do  so  long  " — 
her  voice  failed  her  as  she  leaned  her  head 
against  her  aunt's  shoulder — "  I  do  so  long  to 
have  you  all  that  our  dear  Lord  meant  you 
to  be." 

Mrs.  Musgrove  slipped  her  arm  about  the  girl's 
waist  and  kissed  her  fondly. 

"  Pray  for   me,  my   child,"    she    whispered. 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  109 

That  was  all,  but  the  words  were  full  of  prom 
ise. 

The  evening  had  worn  away  :  Hugh,  with  his 
sister  and  Carl  Crofton,  had  been  strolling  about 
in  the  moonlight  and  had  just  come  in  from  the 
veranda. 

"  I  shall  be  jealous,  Mammie,"  said  Nettie  ; 
"  you  and  Ada  are  always  making  love  to  each 
other,  and  your  only  daughter  is  left  out  in  the 
cold." 

Miss  Crofton  had  at  last  torn  herself  away 
from  the  engrossing  drawings,  and  had  realized 
the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

"  Poor  Nettie  !"  she  said,  caressingly,  laying 
her  hand  on  her  friend's  shoulder  ;  "  you  must 
come  to  me  to  be  comforted  !  I  fear  Miss  Sel- 
wyn  is  supplanting  you  in  your  mother's  affec 
tions." 

The  words  were  jestingly  said,  and  yet  Ada 
felt  that  they  contained  a  sting. 

"  That  is  a  terrible  accusation,"  Miss  Crofton, 
she  said,  half  seriously.  "  I  must  not  come  to 
you  for  a  character." 

"  There  will  be  no  need,"  said  Hugh  ;  "  the 
Musgrove  Ranch  will  give  you  a  character." 

"  Thank  you,  Hugh  !  I  know  I  have  you  for 
a  champion,"  said  Ada,  laughingly  extending 
her  hand  to  her  cousin,  who,  dropping  on  one 


I  JO  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

knee  in  a  dramatic  manner,  carried  it  to  his 
lips. 

"  See,  Mr.  Musgrove,"  said  Miss  Crofton, 
stepping  to  one  side,  "  is  not  that  a  pretty  tab 
leau  ?  What  shall  we  call  it  ?  the  Knight  and 
the  Damosel,  or  what  ?" 

Bruce  looked  at  the  group  with  a  certain  dis 
pleasure  in  his  eyes,  but  only  laughed  without 
replying. 

The  horses  had  been  brought  round,  and 
having  made  her  graceful  adieus  and  reminded 
Bruce  of  an  appointment  with  her  father,  Miss 
Crofton  took  her  departure. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

BRUCE  had  been  absent  for  several  days  ;  in 
fact,  Ada  had  not  seen  him  since  the  evening 
on  which  Miss  Crofton  and  her  brother  had 
dined  at  the  ranch.  His  cousin  missed  him  ; 
there  was  no  denying  that  life  at  the  ranch  lost 
in  interest  in  the  absence  of  the  eldest  son. 
His  strong,  terse  sayings  were  missed  at  the 
family  table  ;  there  was  a  force  and  energy 
about  him  which  made  him,  even  in  his  least 
genial  moods,  really  the  centre  of  thought  and 
action  in  his  home. 

And  yet  Ada  was  not  unwilling  that  he 
should  be  absent,  for  if  life  lost  somewhat  of  its 
interest,  it  was  at  least  more  peaceful,  and  she 
was  not  continually  reminded  by  Bruce's  cold 
and  formal  manner  to  herself  that  she  had  for 
feited  his  favor. 

Had  she  not  possessed  an  affectionate  and 
peace-loving  nature,  there  might  have  been  a 
certain  satisfaction  in  the  consciousness  that 
she  had  won  a  signal  victory  over  the  autocra 
tic  Bruce,  and  had  even  emancipated  Hugh 
I  i  i 


I  I  2  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

from  his  brother's  hitherto  unquestioned  au 
thority,  but,  being  what  she  was,  Ada  could 
only  keenly  regret  the  necessity  for  her  action. 

Hugh,  having  broken  what  he  termed  his 
leading-strings,  was  willing  to  make  the  best 
use  of  his  new-found  freedom,  while  Mrs.  Mus- 
grove,  deeply  impressed  by  what  Ada  had  told 
her  of  the  Ashleighs,  and  with  awakened  con 
sciousness  of  her  sad  remissness  in  the  past, 
was  anxious  in  some  measure  to  atone  for  it  ; 
and  Bruce's  absence  was  opportune,  since  she 
had  not  to  encounter  his  satire  or  displeasure. 

It  was  not  Ada,  but  her  aunt,  who  first  pro 
posed  that  Hugh  should  drive  them  over  to 
Caliente.  She  wished  to  be  introduced  to 
the  Ashleighs.  Nettie  opened  wide  her  pretty 
eyes  at  such  a  proposition  ;  under  her  bright, 
trifling  manner  there  was  a  large  amount  of 
selfishness,  which  made  it  very  hard  to  touch 
her  in  things  unconnected  with  herself. 

"  Why,  mother  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  what  has 
come  over  you  ?  What  in  the  name  of  com 
mon  sense  do  you  want  to  know  them  for  ?" 

The  painful  flush  which  Ada  had  seen  before, 
stole  over  her  aunt's  face,  but  she  answered  in 
a  tone  which  was  new  to  her  petted  daughter. 

"  You  are  not  speaking  to  me  as  you  ought, 
Nettie.  You  have  no  rieht  to  use  such  Ian- 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  \  j  3 

guage  about  anything  I  may  think  it  right 
to  do." 

It  was  Nettie's  turn  to  flush  now,  and  tears 
of  vexation  came  into  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,"  she  pouted,  "  Louise  Croft  on  was 
quite  right  when  she  said  that  Ada  was  putting 
me  in  the  background.  Whatever  she  says  or 
does  is  right.  But  we  shall  see  what  Bruce 
thinks  of  your  making  friends  with  the  Ash- 
leighs,"  she  added  ;  "you  would  not  visit  them 
if  he  were  at  home  !" 

It  was  a  revelation  of  Nettie's  disposition  for 
which  Ada  was  not  prepared,  and  her  look  of 
surprise  added  fuel  to  Nettie's  indignation. 

"  It  is  not  fair  to  Bruce,"  she  said,  "that  you 
should  do  what  he  disapproves  of,  to  please 
Ada.  I  shall  tell  him,  when  he  comes  back, 
that  I  did  all  I  could  to  prevent  it." 

And  then  she  rose  from  her  seat  and  march 
ed  out  of  the  room. 

"  Don't  trouble  about  her,"  said  Hugh  to 
both  the  ladies.  "  You  did  not  know,  Ada,  that 
Nettie  was  such  a  little  termagant.  The  fact 
is,"  he  added,  sententiously,  "we  have  all  had 
our  own  way  a  little  too  much." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Musgrove,  sadly,  "  I  have 
been  a  very  weak  mother,  my  dear." 

"  You  have  been  the  best  little  mother,"  said 


I  14  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

her  son  affectionately,  putting  his  arm  about 
her,  "and  we  ought  all  to  have  turned  out 
model  children." 

But  Mrs.  Musgrove  shook  her  head  sadly. 

"  Go  and  order  the  carriage,  Hugh,"  she 
said,  with  more  decision  of  manner  than  Ada 
had  ever  noticed  in  her.  "Nettie  must  see 
that  she  cannot  turn  me  from  what  I  feel  to  be 
right." 

So  the  carriage  was  brought,  and  Nettie,  with 
indignant  eyes,  watched  the  departure. 

She  was  still  nursing  her  grievance,  though 
several  hours  had  elapsed,  and  feeling  more  in 
jured  than  perhaps  ever  before  in  her  short, 
careless  life,  when  Bruce  unexpectedly  re 
turned. 

He  had  been  camping  with  a  party  of  sur 
veyors  and  others  of  his  acquaintance  on  the 
site  of  the  proposed  new  town,  and  the  days 
had  been  spent  in  projecting  and  marking  out 
the  future  streets  and  surveying  the  surround 
ing  land. 

Although  one  of  the  youngest  in  the  party, 
he  had  been  constantly  referred  to  and  his  sug 
gestions  sought  and  followed.  All  this,  and  the 
free,  careless  life,  the  rides  hither  and  thither 
on  swift  Aleppo,  the  nights  under  the  stars 
(for  Bruce  despised  the  shelter  of  a  tent),  with 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  \  \  5 

the  cool  breeze  creeping  past  him  and  stirring 
his  hair  as  with  the  touch  of  invisible  fingers, 
was  just  what  Bruce  needed  to  restore  him  to 
his  normal  condition,  which  Ada,  in  more  ways 
than  one,  had  disturbed.  With  all  the  strength 
of  his  strong  will  he  was  putting  her  away  from 
him,  as  a  perplexing,  not  to  say  harassing,  sub 
ject,  and  was  succeeding  fairly  well.  Yet,  to 
say  the  truth,  in  those  still,  starlight  nights, 
when  the  camp-fires  had  died  down  and  his 
companions  were  asleep,  thoughts  of  his  firm 
and  gentle  cousin  would  sometimes  assert 
themselves.  Sometimes  even  the  breeze  would 
seem  to  whisper  words  that  she  had  spoken, 
even  taking  the  tone  of  her  voice.  Once  as  he 
lay  awake,  in  the  deep  hush  of  midnight,  the 
waning  moon  hanging  low  in  the  west  and  the 
great  solemn  stars  slowly  moving  in  their 
courses  overhead,  Ada's  pure,  clear-cut  face, 
with  that  strange  look  of  compassion,  seemed 
to  bend  out  of  the  darkness. 

"  Have  you  put  science  in  the  place  of  God, 
Bruce  ? " 

Had  he  indeed  put  God  out  of  his  life  ?  Were 
the  motives  which  made  his  cousin's  life  what 
it  was,  purely  imaginary  ?  They  were  real 
enough  to  her ;  they  were  real  enough  to 
mold  her  character  into  something  vastly 


I  1 6  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

different  from  that  of  any  other  person  Avhom 
he  knew. 

Bruce  did  not  allow  himself  to  follow  a  train 
of  such  thoughts.  He  had,  he  said  to  himself, 
long  since  become  emancipated  from  the  whole 
confusion  of  man-made  creeds.  Nature  and  her 
hand -maid,  Science,  were  enough  for  him, 
enough  to  occupy  all  the  powers  of  his  mind,  to 
satisfy  every  desire  and  ambition  of  his  being. 
And  he  wrapped  himself  in  his  camping  blan 
ket,  resolutely  closing  his  eyes  to  the  vision  of 
Ada's  pleading  face  and  all  that  it  suggested. 

The  site  of  the  proposed  town  was  some  five 
or  six  miles  from  Miss  Crofton's  home,  and 
every  few  days  she  rode  over  with  her  father, 
who  was  also  interested  in  the  scheme  ;  her 
brother  being  one  of  the  camping  party. 

Very  handsome  looked  Miss  Crofton,  with 
a  pretty  flush  on  her  cheeks  and  a  bright  recog 
nition  in  her  eyes  whenever  she  discovered 
Bruce  among  the  little  crowd  of  surveyors  and 
projectors.  Her  interest  never  flagged  in  the 
scheme,  and  Bruce  had  to  point  out  to  her  the 
whole  town,  as  it  was  to  be.  It  was  so  much 
more  satisfactory  than  merely  seeing  it  on 
paper,  she  declared.  Now  the  whole  thing  was 
clear  to  her. 

"  Have  you  decided  on  the  name,  Mr.  Mus- 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  117 

grove  ? "  she  asked,  one  day,  as  the  party  were 
seated  at  luncheon,  in  the  shade  of  some  live- 
oaks.  She  had  brought  over  a  basket  of  vari 
ous  delicacies,  as  an  addition  to  their  camping 
fare,  and  all  were  in  high  good  humor. 

"  No,"  replied  Bruce  ;  "  it  is  rather  a  serious 
matter,  this  naming  our  future  metropolis.  I 
think,  myself,  that  there  is  a  great  deal  in  a 
name,  the  poet  notwithstanding." 

"  Wouldn't  Musgrove  be  a  well -sounding 
name?"  she  said,  so  softly  that  only.  Bruce 
caught  the  words. 

She  saw  the  color  rise  to  his  face,  and  knew 
that  she  had  touched  him  in  a  vulnerable  point. 

"  From  your  lips,"  he  answered,  gallantly, 
"  but  I  am  not  so  arrogant  as  to  suppose  that 
my  name  should  be  the  one  chosen;  I  am  only 
one  of  many  equally  interested." 

"  But  not  equally  influential,"  she  said,  still  in 
the  same  tone  of  subtle  flattery. 

"  Let  me  propose  it." 

"  No,  no,  I  beg  you,"  he  said  hastily. 

If  the  town  were  to  be  named  after  him,  the 
proposition  must  come  from  some  of  those  as 
sociated  with  him  in  the  enterprise. 

Yet  the  suggestion  had  been  pleasant  and 
flattering,  and  Miss  Crofton's  lips  had  been  the 
first  to  utter  it. 


I  1 8  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

It  was  that  very  afternoon  that  Bruce,  re 
membering  some  home  affairs  which  might  pos 
sibly  have  been  neglected  by  Hugh,  determined 
to  ride  over  to  the  ranch  and  spend  the  night 
there. 

It  was  a  long  ride  even  on  so  fleet  a  steed  as 
Aleppo,  and  the  afternoon  was  almost  spent 
when  the  confines  of  the  Musgrove  Ranch  came 
in  sight.  Bruce's  mind  had  been  busy  with  a 
thousand  things  as  he  galloped  along,  over 
mile  after  mile  of  open  country.  He  loved  to 
weave  plans  for  the  future,  to  feed  his  ambition 
with  bold  projects  which  should  result  in  wealth 
and  power  and  honor,  and  the  swift  motion  of 
his  horse,  and  the  strong  breeze  from  the  ocean 
which  swept  over  the  upland,  quickened  his 
brain  and  pulses. 

He  would  have  haughtily  denied  that  the  an 
ticipation  of  meeting  his  stubborn  little  cousin 
had  the  remotest  connection  with  his  pleasur 
able  excitement.  When  he  reached  the  house 
he  sprang  from  his  horse  and  threw  the  reins 
with  a  friendly  nod  to  Sandy,  who  had  spied  his 
young  master  afar  ofif. 

"  Every  one  away,  Sandy  ?  "  he  asked,  for 
both  the  veranda  and  the  shade  of  the  live- 
oak  were  deserted. 

"  Miss  Nettie  is  home,  sir,  but  the  Mistress 


THE  MUS GROVE  RANCH.  Hg 

and  the  young  lady  and  Master  Hugh  went  out 
driving.  I'm  thinking  they're  late." 

"Where  are  you,  Nettie  ?"  called  Bruce,  in 
his  ringing,  imperious  voice,  and  Nettie  emerg 
ed  from  the  drawing-room. 

As  I  said,  she  had  been  nursing  her  grievance, 
and  .still  felt  injured  and  sullen,  for  had  she  not 
spent  a  long  solitary  afternoon  ? 

"  I'm  glad  you  have  come  back,  Bruce,"  she 
said.  "  I  hope  you  have  come  to  stay.  Things 
don't  seem  to  go  on  as  they  should  when  you 
are  not  at  home." 

Nettie  seldom  condescended  to  compliment 
her  brother,  and  Bruce  looked  a  little  amused 
as  he  pinched  her  cheek. 

"  I've  only  come  to  stay  till  to-morrow.  It 
will  take  another  week  or  two  to  get  things 
underway  up  there.  What  has  been  going 
wrong  ? 


CHAPTER   XV. 

NETTIE  had  at  all  times  a  slight  tendency  to 
mischief,  but  to-day  it  had  been  fanned  into 
something  more,  and  she  had  never  practiced 
the  difficult  art  of  self-control. 

"  Only  that  mother  seems  to  be  turned 
round  in  the  most  unaccountable  manner,  and 
lets  Ada  manage  her  as  if  her  will  was  law." 

"And  how  has  she  been  exercising  it?" 
asked  Bruce,  carelessly  enough,  but  the  pleas 
ant  ring  had  gone  out  of  his  voice. 

"  Why,  you  might  suppose  that  it  was  some 
thing  about  the  Ashleighs.  You  know  Ada  is 
quite  infatuated  with  them,  and  now  she  has 
chosen  to  take  mother  over  to  see  them.  I  said 
that  it  was  unfair  to  you,  while  you  were  away, 
to  do  what  would  annoy  you  so  much,  but  they 
would  go." 

Bruce  made  no  reply.  His  silence  was  so 
ominous  that  Nettie  felt  a  little  frightened. 

"  Yes,  I  did  what  I  could  to  prevent  it,"  she 
said,  nervously,  "  but  Louise  was  quite  right  : 
Ada  is  everything  with  mother  now,  and  I  am 
nothing." 

1 20 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  \  2  I 

Still  no  response  from  Bruce. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak,  Bruce  ?"  said  his 
sister,  impatiently. 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  say  ?"  he  replied, 
in  his  harshest  tones.  "  You  know  without  my 
telling  you  how  gratifying  your  news  is;  "  and 
he  turned  away  and  strode  out  of  the  house. 

If  Nettie  had  felt  aggrieved  and  forlorn  before 
Bruce's  arrival,  she  felt  tenfold  so  now.  Her 
brother's  contemptuous  harshness  made  her 
cup  overflow,  and  she  sat  down  in  the  solitary, 
dusky  drawing-room  and  had  a  long,  miserable 
cry  all  to  herself.  She  could  hear  Bruce  strid 
ing  to  and  fro  on  the  veranda.  She  knew  well 
that  she  had  succeeded  in  raising  a  storm,  and 
gradually  began  to  fear  that  it  was  more  for 
midable  than  she  had  intended  ;  she  even  be 
gan  to  look  forward  with  some  apprehension  to 
the  return  of  the  others  from  Caliente. 

It  was  strange  that  they  had  not  yet  re 
turned,  for  night  was  closing  in,  and  Mrs.  Mus- 
grove  disliked  driving  after  dark. 

At  last,  just  as  Nettie  had  worked  herself 
into  a  state  of  nervous  excitement,  the  carriage 
drove  up. 

"Hello,  Bruce!" 

Hugh  had  descried  his  brother's  tall  form  on 
the  veranda,  and,  though  himself  somewhat 


122  THE  MUSGRO  VE  RA  \'Cff. 

apprehensive  of  an  unpleasant  reception,  was 
not  sorry  to  see  him,  and,  as  he  would  have 
said,  get  things  into  shape  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  Well,  Bruce,"  said  Mrs.  Musgrove,  nervous 
ly,  as  her  eldest  son,  without  much  alacrity, 
approached  and  helped  her  to  alight,  "  when 
did  you  come  home  ?" 

"  An  hour  or  two  ago,"  he  answered  coldly, 
scarcely  returning  the  kiss  with  which  she 
greeted  him.  And' then  he  stood  for  a  moment 
waiting  for  Ada  to  alight.  It  had  grown  so 
dark  that  he  could  not  see  the  interior  of  the 
carriage.  Hugh  had  jumped  down  from  the 
driver's  seat. 

"  We  have  left  Ada  at  Caliente,"  he  said,  and 
then  added  hurriedly,  "  I  may  as  well  tell  you, 
Bruce,  that  mother  and  I  went  over  with  her  to 
call  on  the  Ashleighs.  We  found  Mrs.  Ash- 
ieigh  very  ill,  and  Ada  insisted  on  remaining 
to  nurse  her,  but  she  hopes  to  be  back  next 
week." 

Bruce's  indignation  had  chiefly  centered  in 
Ada.  It  was  of  her  that  he  had  thought,  as  he 
had  paced  to  and  fro;  of  her  utter  disregard  of 
his  strongly  expressed  feelings,  of  her  deliber 
ate  effort  to  influence  his  own  family  to  act  in 
opposition  to  his  wishes.  It  was  the  meeting 
with  her  which  he  had  anticipated  with  the  in- 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  123 

dignant  determination,  once  for  all,  to  express 
his  opinion  of  her  course  of  action  and  of  the 
religion  which  led  her  to  stir  up  dissension  in 
his  family.  He  felt  his  to  be  a  righteous  in 
dignation.  He  would  receive  her  coldly,  and 
request  her  to  have  a  conversation  with  him 
alone  that  evening.  He  preferred  rather  to 
speak  with  her  alone  than  in  the  presence  of 
the  others.  He  had  pictured  to  himself  how 
she  would  look,  how  she  would  have  to  acknow 
ledge  that  even  from  her  own  standpoint  she 
was  doing  evil  that  good  might  come,  and 
perhaps,  perhaps,  if  she  were  duly  penitent,  he 
might  forgive  her. 

And  now — the  feeling  which  Bruce  experi 
enced  was  a  strange,  unreasonable  disappoint 
ment,  an  angry  disappointment,  all  the  more 
keen  because  it  could  not  be  expressed. 

"  I  wish  you  joy  of  your  new  acquaintances," 
he  said,  scornfully.  "  They. must  respect  you,  at 
all  events,  for  the  family  feeling  which  leads  you 
to  make  much  of  a  man  who  has  insulted  your 
brother." 

Hugh  had  no  opportunity  to  reply,  for  his 
brother  turn^j^away  abruptly. 

It  was  the  first  time  since  Ada  Selwyn's  arriv 
al  among  them  that  the  Musgrove  family  had 
spent  an  evening  without  her,  and  it  was  strange 


124  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

what  a  blank  her  absence  caused.  The  bright 
face,  with  its  look  of  ready  sympathy,  the  friend 
ly,  gentle  voice,  that  had  grown  so  familiar  and 
seemed  like  an  added  harmony,  the  ready  wit, 
never  indulged  at  the  expense  of  others,  had 
grown  to  be  an  influence  sweet  and  wholesome 
as  sunshine,  of  whose  value  we  often  only  be 
come  conscious  when  it  is  withdrawn. 

Dinner  was  a  very  silent  meal.  Mrs.  Mus- 
grove  and  Hugh  had  spoken  with  each  other 
on  their  drive  homeward,  and  both  felt  now 
that  neither  Bruce  nor  Nettie  was  in  a  mood 
to  listen  to  their  changed  views  or  the  impres 
sions  they  had  received. 

Hugh  addressed  some  questions  to  his  brother 
about  the  new  town,  to  which  Bruce  briefly  re 
plied,  and  in  his  turn  inquired  if  certain  instruc 
tions  of  his  had  been  carried  out.  The  mother 
and  daughter  did  not  exchange  many  words. 
For  the  first  time,  Nettie  saw  something  in  her 
mother's  face  which  gave  her  a  vague  uneasi 
ness.  Hitherto  she  had  always,  even  when  she 
had  deserved  her  mother's  displeasure,  been 
absolutely  sure  of  speedy  pardon,  and  valued  it, 
accordingly,  all  too  lightly.  But  to-night  in 
the  gentle,  saddened  face  she  saw  something 
like  an  unspoken  rebuke. 

"  I  am  going  back  in  the  morning,  mother," 
said  Bruce,  "  and  so  will  say  good  night." 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  125 

He  had  refrained  from  saying  anything  harsh 
to  her.  It  may  have  been  that  the  same  pre 
occupied  expression  which  had  puzzled  Nettie 
had  its  influence  on  him,  or  that  the  indigna 
tion  against  Ada  had  dominated  him  to  the  ex 
tent  of  making  him  overlook  the  delinquencies 
of  the  others.  After  all,  Ada  was  the  head  and 
front  of  their  offending. 

"  Good  night,  my  son."  Mrs.  Musgrove  lift 
ed  her  face  to  his  and  laid  her  hand  lightly  on 
his  shoulder.  She  kissed  him,  and,  as  he  was 
about  to  leave  her,  she  said  softly  : 

"  Bruce,  dear,  don't  leave  your  mother  with 
a  feeling  of  anger  in  your  heart.  What  I  have 
done  was  in  obedience  to  what  I  felt  was  right." 

Bruce  waved  his  hand  impatiently.  Why,  his 
mother  seemed  to  have  borrowed  Ada's  very 
tone  and  words. 

"  I  am  not  angry,  mother,"  he  said,  half  con 
temptuously;  "it  is  your  own  look-out  if  you 
choose  to  be  led  blind-fold  by  a  girl's  whims 
and  fancies  ;  only  you  can  hardly  expect  me  to 
sympathize  with  you  in  your  new  departure." 

"  Ada  is  not  a  girl  of  whims  and  fancies,  and 
you  know  it,  Bruce." 

It  was  Hugh's  voice,  speaking  warmly  and 
indignantly.  He  had  just  entered  the  room  in 
time  to  catch  Bruce's  reply  to  his  mother. 


126  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

"  Don't  excite  yourself,"  said  Bruce,  in  his 
coldest  tones.  "  I  am  not  disposed  to  argue  the 
point.  We  each  have  our  own  views  on  the 
matter.  You  are  welcome  to  yours.  Good 
night." 

"  It  is  too  bad  that  Bruce  should  presume  to 
express  such  an  opinion  of  Ada.  He  is  arro 
gant—" 

"  Hugh,  Hugh  !  "  said  his  mother,  imploring 
ly,  "  Ada  would  be  the  last  to  wish  you  to 
quarrel  with  Bruce  about  her"  ;  and  Hugh  had 
to  admit  the  truth  of  the  assertion. 

"  It  will  all  come  right,  dear,"  she  went  on  ; 
"  since  I  have  begun  to  see  my  duty,  I  have 
faith  to  believe  that  God  will  help  me  to  do  it." 

On  her  way  to  her  own  room  that  night  Mrs. 
Musgrove  entered  her  daughter's.  Nettie  was 
lying  asleep,  her  pretty  face  a  little  flushed,  and 
the  frown  that  had  spoiled  it  through  the  day 
not  yet  quite  smoothed  out.  A  novel,  not  of 
the  highest  type,  lay  by  her  pillow.  She  had 
read  herself  to  sleep,  and  the  lamp  burned  be 
side  her.  Shading  her  eyes  from  the  light,  the 
mother  stood,  looking  down  upon  her  child, 
and  as  she  looked,  tears,  heavy,  burning  tears, 
dropped  one  by  one. 

Why  was  not  this  fair,  young,  only  daughter 
of  hers  what  Ada  was  ?  Where  was  the  sweet 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  12J 

unselfishness,  the  calm  and  steadfast  devotion 
to  duty,  the  child  -  like,  yet  exalted  faith  ? 
True,  Ada  was  a  few  years  her  senior,  but  all 
these  were  fruits  of  an  almost  life-long  growth. 

It  was  a  heart-searching  sermon  which  the 
young  unconscious  sleeper  was  preaching  to 
the  mother. 

The  thought  of  Ada  at  that  hour,  minister 
ing  with  skillful  hand  and  loving  heart  to  a 
helpless  sufferer,  came  to  deepen  the  impres 
sion  of  her  own  child's  absolute  selfishness,  of 
the  lack  of  any  aims  or  motives  in  her  life  be 
yond  the  careless  enjoyment  of  the  passing 
hour. 

But,  we  may  well  believe,  it  was  with  no 
censure  of  her  beloved  child  that  the  mother 
stood  gazing  at  her  ;  it  was,  rather,  with  a  pro 
found  sense  of  her  own  failure  in  bringing  up 
the  children  whom  God  had  given  her,  as  heirs 
of  an  immortal  heritage,  as  those  who  must 
give  account  of  the  life  which  had  been  be 
stowed  upon  them. 

Overcome  by  emotion,  she  sank  at  last  upon 
her  knees,  with  a  voiceless  prayer  for  grace 
and  strength  for  the  future.  Then  laying  her 
face  beside  Nettie's  on  the  pillow,  she  softly 
kissed  her,  leaving  a  mother's  blessing  when 
she  went  away. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

TlJAT  night  the  shadow  of  death  seemed 
resting  on  the  little  parsonage  at  Caliente. 
But  it  was  not  a  horror  of  great  darkness  to  the 
stricken  heart  of  Eustace  Ashleigh.  He  was 
ready,  if  God  willed  it  so,  to  yield  up  his  beloved 
without  a  murmur,  yet — if  the  cup  might  pass 
from  him  ! 

How  passionately  Ada  had  prayed  that 
night.  Her  whole  heart  went  out  to  them,  and 
they  both  felt  the  unspeakable  comfort  of  a 
deep,  human  sympathy. 

When  Ada,  with  her  aunt  and  cousin,  had 
arrived  at  the  parsonage,  they  found  Mrs.  Ash 
leigh  in  a  most  critical  condition.  A  severe 
hemorrhage  had  completely  prostrated  her,  and 
she  could  only  look  a  tender  welcome  to  Ada, 
as  she  approached  her  bed-side.  In  a  few 
minutes  afterwards  Hugh  had  driven  off,  as  fast 
as  his  horses  could  carry  him,  to  obtain  the 
services  of  a  skillful  physician  who  resided  at 
the  nearest  town,  some  ten  miles  distant,  and 
Mrs.  Musgrove  was  talking  to  Mr.  Ashleigh 
128 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


129 


with  the  kindly  interest  of  an  old  friend,  while 
Ada  had  constituted  herself  nurse,  and  was 
moving  noiselessly  about  the  sick-room,  put 
ting  things  in  order  with  a  magical  touch,  and 
making  arrangements  for  the  invalid's  comfort. 

Some  hours  elapsed  before  Hugh's  return 
with  the  doctor.  The  afternoon  was  wearing 
away,  and  Mrs.  Musgrove  felt  that  they  must 
set  out  on  their  return,  but  Ada  had  already 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  her  place,  for  the 
present,  was  with  those  who  needed  her  so 
sorely. 

"  Hugh  will  bring  me  some  things  to-mor 
row,"  she  said,  "  when  he  comes  with  what  you 
are  going  to  send.  I  hope  you  will  miss  me  a 
little."  And  she  kissed  her  aunt  good-bye,  and 
waved  her  hand  from  the  doorway  as  Hugh 
drove  off. 

Mrs.  Musgrove  had  not  attempted  to  dis 
suade  her  niece  from  her  purpose,  for  that  the 
need  was  incontestable,  and  that  she  had  made 
up  her  mind,  was  evident. 

The  utmost  care  was  needed,  the  doctor  had 
said,  and  the  strictest  adherence  to  his  direc 
tions.  With  these,  partial  recovery,  at  least, 
was  quite  possible,  even  probable. 

Towards  evening  hushed  footsteps  came  and 
went  about  the  parsonage,  for  the  news  of 


I3O  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

Mrs.  Ashleigh's  illness  had  got  abroad,  and 
among  the  scattered  church  people  were 
those  who  had  begun  to  realize  the  devotion  01 
their  pastor  and  his  sweet  wife,  and  they  came 
with  sympathy,  if  nothing  more,  and  some  with 
anxious  offers  of  help. 

Ada  dismissed  them  with  gentle  words  of 
thanks,  and  promises,  in  case  of  need,  to  claim 
their  assistance.  Then  night  settled  down, 
and  in  this  quiet  outskirt  of  the  town  there  was 
little  or  nothing  to  disturb  the  invalid,  as  she 
lay  motionless  upon  her  pillows,  oftenest  with 
closed  eyes,  though  not  asleep. 

The  first  half  of  the  night  Mr.  Ashleigh  had 
insisted  upon  watching,  promising  Ada  to 
awake  her  after  midnight  ;  when,  refreshed 
with  a  few  hours'  sleep,  she  took  his  place  till 
morning. 

In  the  "  small  hours  "  Mrs.  Ashleigh  fell  into 
a  quiet  slumber,  which  Ada  knew  to  be  the  best 
medicine.  And  then  the  young  girl  moved  the 
curtain  a  little,  that  she  might  see  the  dawn 
and  sunrise.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  she 
had  watched  through  a  night  by  a  sick-bed, 
sometimes  by  the  sick-bed  of  those  nearest  to 
her  heart.  This  slow  breaking  of  the  dawn, 
after  a  night  so  spent,  how  strange  and  sad  it 
seems  !  All  the  world  lies  in  slumber  ;  only 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  \~>l 

\J 

the  watchers  with  their  sorrow  are  awake  to 
see  that  first  mysterious  change  from  darkness 
to  light,  so  cold  and  chill  at  first,  that  it  makes 
common  things  look  weird  and  unfamiliar. 

Ada  stood  and  watched  that  daily  miracle 
of  the  returning  light  ;  and  solemn  thoughts 
of  death,  the  dark  threshold  of  the  life  to  come, 
stirred  in  her  mind  and  made  her  young  face 
look  grave  and  awe-struck  as  the  first  touch  of 
day  fell  on  it. 

Gradually  the  shadows  melted  away  before 
the  growing  light,  and  the  low,  tender  twitter 
of  a  bird  close  by  the  partially  open  window 
came  to  her  like  a  sweet  message  of  endless 
love.  She  turned  to  look  at  her  patient  ;  Mrs. 
Ashleigh  was  sleeping  as  peacefully  as  a  child, 
with  faint  but  regular  breathings,  and  Ada, 
with  a  thrill  of  thankfulness,  recognized  that 
the  symptoms  were  even  more  favorable  than 
the  doctor  had  anticipated. 

She  said  her  morning  prayer  by  the  bed-side, 
and  then  stole  softly  out  into  the  garden,  to 
breathe  for  a  few  moments  its  early  fragrance. 

The  flowers  were  beginning  to  clothe  them 
selves  in  divers  colors,  and  the  birds  seemed  to 
be  trying  their  separate  notes,  before  striking 
into  one  grand  chorus  of  delight. 

Ada  walked  down  the  garden  path  to  the 


132  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

little  gate  in  the  fence  which  inclosed  the 
parsonage  garden,  and,  as  she  stood,  leaning 
against  it,  the  far-off  sound  of  a  horse's  feet 
struck  upon  her  ear,  Very  faintly  at  first,  as 
if  at  a  great  distance,  then  nearer  and  louder, 
and  at  last,  watching  with  a  half-conscious  ex 
pectancy  for  this  early  rider,  Ada  became 
aware  of  a  familiar  form,  and  —  yes,  it  was 
Bruce  himself,  who  was  riding  along  the  road 
that  passed  the  parsonage. 

In  her  first  gladness  at  the  sight  of  him,  his 
cousin  did  not  ask  whether  his  being  there  had 
any  connection  with  herself.  She  only  saw 
that  it  was  Bruce,  whom  she  had  not  seen  for 
what  seemed  a  long  time.  Of  course  she  must 
speak  to  him. 

In  one  hand  she  held  a  white  rose  or  two, 
with  the  other  she  opened  the  garden-gate  and 
stood  awaiting  him. 

Caliente  does  net  lie  in  a  direct  line  from  the 
Musgrove  Ranch  to  the  new  town,  and  when 
Bruce  started  from  his  home  at  daybreak  he 
had  no  intention  of  diverging  towards  a  place 
which  of  late  had  had  for  him  only  unpleasant 
associations  ;  still  less  had  he  the  faintest 
thought  of  meeting  Ada  at  such  an  hour,  nor 
would  such  a  probability  have  led  him  to  change 
his  route  ;  on  the  contrary  he  would  not,  of  his 
own  will,  have  met  his  cousin. 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  \-\*> 

\J  *J 

And  yet — so  strangely  inconsistent  are  we 
mortals — here  he  found  himself,  and  here, 
standing  in  his  way,  with  a  smile  of  welcome 
on  her  sweet  face,  was  Ada. 

In  the  confusion  of  feeling  which  her  presence 
caused  him  he  hardly  knew  what  he  did.  Alep 
po  recognized  her  too,  for  as  his  master  reined 
him  in,  the  beautiful  creature  stooped  his  head 
as  if  waiting  for  a  caress  from  the  white  hand 
of  his  friend. 

"  Have  you  been  at  home  Bruce  ? "  she  ask 
ed.  "I  am  so  glad  that  I  happened  to  be  up  and 
out  to  see  you  for  a  moment,  for,  I  suppose,  you 
were  not  coming  to  see  me  ?  " 

"No,  I  had  no  thought  of  seeing  you  at  such 
an  hour." 

"  Did  you — know  that  I  was  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  spent  last  night  at  the  ranch,  and 
heard  of  your  taking  up  the  office  of  a  good 
Samaritan." 

If  Bruce  had  intended  a  sneer  he  had  not 
succeeded  as  well  as  usual.  There  was  some 
thing  in  the  gentle  face,  pale  with  the  night 
watching,  which  disarmed  him. 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  she  said. 

"  Would  you  nurse  a  heathen  like  myself,  if 
I  were  sick?"  he  asked,  wondering  at  himself 
as  he  did  so. 


134 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


"  If  you  would  let  me,"  she  answered,  "  only 
too  gladly." 

Then  there  was  a  moment's  silence  between 
them,  she  resting  the  hand  that  held  the  white 
roses  on  Aleppo's  neck. 

"  I  must  go  now,"  she  said.  "  Mrs.  Ashleigh 
is  very,  very  ill." 

"  And  you,  I  suppose,  are  doing  your  best  to 
make  yourself  ill  also.  You  look  as  if  you 
needed  nursing  yourself!  "  and  then  he  mut 
tered  to  himself,  "  Absurd  !  " 

"  I  never  felt  better,  only  a  little  sleepy. 
Good-bye,  dear,  beautiful  Aleppo.  Good-bye, 
Bruce." 

"  Good-bye,  Ada." 

She  shook  hands  a  little  shyly  with  him  and 
he  galloped  off,  turning  his  head  once  to  see 
her  disappear  within  the  parsonage. 

Mile  after  mile  through  the  sweet  morning 
air  galloped  Aleppo,  and  his  master  was  so  lost 
in  thought  that  he  was  scarcely  conscious  of 
the  road  he  traveled.  His  indignation  of  the 
previous  night  was  abated,  but  he  felt  angry 
with  himself.  He  felt  that  he  had  not  shown 
his  cousin  how  thoroughly  she  had  offended 
him,  by  forming  a  friendship  with  the  Ash- 
leighs.  It  was  an  absurdity,  this  going  to  nurse 
the  clergyman's  wife.  Some  neighbor,  or  a 
hired  nurse,  might  have  been  procured  if  needed, 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  135 

but  Ada,  a  young,  delicately  nurtured  girl — it 
was  only  another  proof  of  her  unreasonable  self- 
will,  of  her  utter  disregard  of  his  wishes. 

Doubtless  Aleppo  wondered  why  his  master 
was  so  unreasonable  as  to  urge  him  up  a  steep 
incline,  which  he  would  rather  have  taken 
leisurely,  but  Bruce  felt  as  if  he  would  have 
flown,  if  he  could,  from  the  irritating  thoughts 
that  pursued  him.  . 

He  was  glad  when  he  came  in  sight  of  the 
cluster  of  little  white  tents  by  the  foot-hill.  He 
would  have  enough  to  engross  his  mind  and 
energies  here,  and  there  would  be  no  room  for 
petty  annoyances. 

"  Hullo,  Musgrove !  back  in  time  for  break 
fast,"  shouted  one  of  the  party  who  was  taking 
his  turn  to  prepare  that  meal,  and  was  frying 
"  flap-jacks  "  over  the  fire  which  crackled  and 
flamed  in  the  fire-place  of  rough  stones,  built 
in  a  convenient  locality. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bruce,  <(  I  started  before  day 
break,  and,"  looking  at  his  watch,  "  Aleppo  has 
made  good  time.  I  warn  you  that  I  am  hun 
gry-" 

lt  Glad  to  see  you  back,  Musgrove,"  said  an 
other,  issuing  from  his  tent.  "  Those  railroad 
men  have  sent  us  word  that  they  are  coming 
over  from  Los  Angeles,  and  we  may  hope,  now 
that  you  are  here,  to  get  things  fixed  up." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  coming  of  the  railroad  men  meant  a 
great  deal  to  the  projectors  of  the  new  town. 
It  meant  in  all  probability  a  large  measure  of 
success  in  their  undertaking.  It  meant,  in  fact, 
a  realization  of  what  seemed,  even  to  them 
selves,  somewhat  chimerical,  for,  at  that  time, 
though  only  a  very  few  years  ago,  people  had 
not  the  unlimited  confidence  in  the  future  of 
this  wonderful  land  which  they  have  now. 

Bruce,  though  on  the  one  hand  the  most 
cautious,  had  been  the  most  sanguine,  and  now, 
when  he  heard  of  the  advent  of  the  railroad 
men,  his  heart  gave  a  throb  of  exultation.  Yes, 
if  he  could  make  them  see  things  in  the  right 
light — and  he  felt  little  doubt  of  succeeding  in 
this — the  future  of  the  yet  unnamed  town  was 
assured. 

s  "Carl,"  he  said  to  young  Crofton,  who  had  just 
come  into  camp  with  his  gun  over  his  shoulder 
and  his  game-bag  filled  with  mountain-quail, 
"  do  you  think  your  sister,  at  such  short  notice, 
would  entertain  these  gentlemen,  if  I  rode  over 
136 


7 HE  MUSGROVE  RAXCH.  137 

with  them  in  the  afternoon  ?  It  is  too  far  for 
me  to  take  them  home,  and  she  is  always  gra 
cious  and  hospitable." 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it,"  replied  the  young  man, 
laughing;  "any  friends  of  yours,  you  know,  will 
be  welcome." 

"  It  seems  almost  imposing  on  her  good 
nature,"  said  Bruce,  seemingly  unconscious  of 
the  implied  compliment,  "  but  it  is  desirable  to 
make  the  best  impression,  and  to  show  them 
what  one  of  our  homes  can  offer  in  culture  and 
resources." 

"  You  are  a  long-headed  Scotchman,"  said 
the  young  man  who  was  acting  as  cook,  ad 
miringly.  "  Were  you  born  on  this  side  of  the 
water  ?  " 

But  Bruce  was  too  much  engrossed  by  the 
matter  in  hand  to  do  more  than  answer  "  yes," 
abstractedly. 

"  Too  Scotch  to  take  a  joke,  however,"  mut 
tered  the  other,  as  Bruce  strode  away  to  confer 
with  some  of  the  elders. 

About  noon  a  couple  of  carriages,  filled  with 
portly,  responsible  looking  gentlemen,  arrived 
at  the  camping-ground  and  were  warmly  wel 
comed. 

It  was  Bruce  who  imperceptibly  became  the 
chief  speaker,  and  to  whom  the  strangers  grad- 


I  ^>8  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

\J 

ually  addressed  themselves  more  and  more, 
evidently  impressed  by  the  experience  and 
sagacity,  remarkable  in  so  young  a  man,  no  less 
than  by  his  self-contained  and  somewhat 
authoritative  manner. 

Carl  Crofton,  in  accordance  with  Bruce's  sug 
gestion,  had  ridden  over  to  his  father's  ranch 
early  in  the  day,  and  told  his  sister  of  the  com 
ing  guests,  and  the  young  lady  had  instantly 
determined  to  make  the  visit  in  every  sense  a 
success. 

Her  Chinese  cook  was  really  a  marvel  of  skill 
and  patience,  and  her  Irish  hand -maid  splen 
didly  under  control.  Their  mistress,  who  from 
a  child,  owing  to  her  mother's  early  death,  had 
been  accustomed  to  govern  the  household,  on 
this  occasion  surpassed  herself. 

On  the  east  side  of  the  house  was  a  wide 
piazza,  literally  curtained  with  climbing  roses, 
whose  snowy,  crimson,  and  creamy  blossoms 
grew  in  delightful  clusters  amid  the  glossy 
leaves;  and  here,  rather  than  in  the  dining-room, 
Miss  Crofton  had  the  table  prepared  for  guests 
whom  Bruce  Musgrove  was  to  bring  with  him. 
The  result  of  all  these  preparations  was  all  that 
could  have  been  desired,  and  the  young  lady 
had  her  reward  in  the  look  of  grateful  acknowl 
edgment  with  which  Bruce  greeted  her  on  his 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


139 


arrival  with  the  important  visitors,  when  the 
afternoon  was  about  half  spent. 

The  young  hostess,  in  her  most  becoming  cos 
tume,  awaited  them  with  her  father,  and  it  was 
quite  evident  that  the  gracious  hospitality  with 
which  they  were  welcomed,  impressed  the 
strangers  most  favorably.  Dinner  in  the  fra 
grant  shade  of  the  rose-covered  piazza,  was  as 
attractive  to  the  eye  as  to  the  palate.  Con 
versation  flowed  easily  and  pleasantly,  and 
many  were  the  graceful  compliments  bestowed 
upon  the  one  lady  of  the  party.  Miss  Crofton 
was  in  her  element.  To  be  appreciated  and 
admired  is  always  agreeable,  and  to  be  so  in 
the  presence  of  a  person  whom  you  wish  to 
impress  with  a  sense  of  your  value  is  peculiar 
ly  so. 

After  dinner  the  gentlemen  strolled  about 
the  ranch,  which  was  extensive,  and  well  cared 
for,  and  during  the  stroll  the  conversation  took 
a  business  turn.  Bruce,  under  a  calmness  of 
manner  which  might  have  been  almost  indif 
ference,  was  in  reality  profoundly  anxious  to 
bring  the  question  of  the  branch  railway  to  an 
issue. 

Success  and  failure  often  lie  so  near  together 
that  what  seems  an  unimportant  step  may  make 
the  whole  difference  between  them,  and  the 


I4O  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

young  man  was  fully  conscious  of  the  import 
ance  of  turning  the  present  hour  to  advantage. 
He  was  walking  with  a  gentleman  whose  "  yea 
or  nay"  would  incline  the  scale  this  way  or 
that ;  a  hard-headed,  terribly  experienced  man 
of  business,  and  of  the  world,  over  and  over  a 
millionaire  too,  who,  had  he  so  willed  it,  might 
have  built  the  railroad  at  his  own  expense;  and 
it  was  a  proof  of  Bruce's  self-control,  that  he 
showed  no  trace  of  nervousness  or  excitement 
while  conversing  with  this  formidable  person. 

Whether  it  was  that  the  gentleman  recog 
nized  in  Bruce  some  of  the  qualities  which,  he 
was  accustomed  to  boast,  had  raised  him  from 
a  "city  Arab"  to  what  he  was,  or  that  on  its 
own  merits  the  scheme  approved  itself  to  his 
mind,  after  a  long  pause,  which  Bruce  intuitively 
felt  to  be  the  turning-point  of  the  negotiation, 
the  millionaire  pledged  himself  in  a  few  words 
to  the  undertaking. 

Just  for  a  little  moment  Bruce  was  silent ;  he 
had  worked  very  hard  for  this  result,  and  his 
bosom  swelled  with  a  throb  of  triumph. 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,"  he  said,  holding  out  his 
hand  to  his  companion;  "I  thank  you  in  the 
name  of  our  company,  as  well  as  in  my  own,  and 
I  pledge  my  word  that  you  will  not  regret  your 
determination." 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  141 

A  short  but  satisfactory  conversation  fol 
lowed.  As  they  turned  toward  the  house,  the 
carriages  which  were  to  convey  the  party  to 
the  distant  station  drove  up. 

"Only  just  in  time,"  said  Bruce  to  himself; 
"had  I  not  clinched  the  matter  now,  it  might 
have  been  delayed  indefinitely." 

Success  was  to  Bruce  more  exhilarating  than 
a  draught  of  strong  wine,  and  Louise  Crofton 
noted  the  exultant  flash  in  his  eyes,  and  felt 
that  all  was  right. 

When  the  gentlemen  had  taken  their  leave, 
she  turned  to  the  young  man  in  the  most  win 
ning  manner.  "I  need  not  ask  you  the  result," 
she  said ;  "  I  see  it  in  your  face." 

"We  have  to  thank  you  for  our  success,"  he 
replied,  allowing  himself  to  show  how  elated 
he  was.  "The  whole  thing  hung  in  the  balance, 
and  your  hospitality  decided  it." 

"I  only  carried  out  your  suggestions,"  she 
said,  meekly,  "  I  did  my  best,  however." 

It  was  a  grand  success,"  he  rejoined.  "  I  must 
tell  mother  that  there  is  another  house-keeper 
in  the  valley,  besides  herself." 

Louise  laughed.  "  But  a  long,  long  way 
behind  her,"  she  said,  archly;  "don't  dare  to 
tell  dear  Mrs.  Musgrove  that  I  am  anywhere 
near  her."  And  then  she  added,  incautiously, 


1 4  2  THE  MUSGRO  VE  RANCH. 

"  I  know  Miss  Selwyn  would  be  scandalized; 
she  would  think  you  wanting  in  proper  respect. 
Your  cousin  is  such  a  perfect  person,  that  I  am 
really  afraid  of  her." 

But  at  the  mention  of  Ada's  name,  coupled 
with  that  little  sneer,  the  pleasant  look  faded 
from  Bruce's  face.  The  wisest  of  us  sometimes 
make  mistakes,  and  the  laughing,  handsome 
girl  could  not  know  that,  while  she  spoke,  a 
sudden  vision  came  for  him  of  Ada  standing 
waiting  for  him  in  the  early  morning  light,  with 
the  roses  in  her  hand,  and  with  a  smile  of  wel 
come,  as  though  he  had  never  uttered  one  harsh 
word  to  her,  or  had  an  angry  thought. 

"  She  is  not  such  an  alarming  person,"  he 
answered,  "  and,  I  am  sure,  would  not  plead 
guilty  to  the  charge  of  being  perfect." 

"  Oh,  no,  we  sinners  are  the  ones  to  think 
well  of  ourselves,"  she  retorted.  "  Miss  Selwyn 
is  a  saint,  and  consequently  bound  to  consider 
herself  a  '  miserable  sinner ' — is  not  that  a 
paradox  ? " 

"It  sounds  like  one,"  he  replied,  and  laughed 
at  the  pretty,  puzzled  look  in  the  young  lady's 
face,  though  he  felt  unaccountably  annoyed. 

"Tell  me,"  she  said — "you know  that  among 
my  virtues,  feminine  curiosity  has  a  place — 
does  Miss  Selwyn  attend  church  at  Caliente  ? 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  143 

I  have  a  maid  who  is  perversely  addicted  to 
going  there  on  Sundays,  and  she  solemnly  avers 
that  a  young  lady  from  the  Musgrove  Ranch 
plays  the  organ  for  the  Episcopal  service.  Dear, 
naughty  Nettie  I  knew  it  could  not  be,  and  so 
was  driven  to  the  conclusion  that  it  must  be 
Miss  Selwyn." 

"  My  cousin  has  not  made  me  her  confidant 
in  the  matter,"  replied  Bruce;  "she  does  go  to 
church  at  Caliente,  but  as  to  her  being  organ 
ist,  I  have  to  leave  your  feminine  curiosity  un- 
gratified." 

"  But  she  does  really  go  to  church  there  ! " 
exclaimed  Miss  Crofton,  opening  her  eyes  in 
well-feigned  astonishment  ;  "  how  funny — I 
mean  how  strange — I  thought — " 

"  What  did  you  think  ?  "  asked  Bruce,  almost 
harshly,  with  one  of  his  sudden  frowns. 

"  O,  Mr.  Musgrove,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she 
said.  "  I  have  been  indiscreet  to  speak  as  I 
have  done — I  am  sorry." 

She  seemed  really  pained,  and  her  handsome 
eyes,  shaded  by  their  long  lashes,  looked  as  if 
tears  might  be  near. 

"  It  is  for  me  to  beg  your  pardon,"  said 
Bruce;"  you  have  done  so  much  for  me  to-day, 
and  I  have  been  ungrateful  enough  to  speak 
almost  rudely.  Accept  my  humble  apology." 


144  THE  MUSGROrE  RANCH. 

Just  at  that  moment  Carl  Crofton  rode  up, 
leading  Bruce's  horse.  They  were  expected  at 
the  camping-ground,  where  the  rest  of  the  party 
were  naturally  anxious  to  know  how  the 
matter  of  the  railroad  had  progressed. 

"  And  once  more  my  fervent  thanks,"  said 
Bruce,  holding  out  his  hand,  which  Miss  Crof 
ton  accepted  with  a  pretty  show  of  forgiveness. 

She  watched  the  young  men  out  of  sight, 
however,  with  an  unsmiling  face  and  a  growing 
dislike  to  Ada,  whom  she  regarded  as  the 
cause  of  the  first  approach  to  unfriendliness 
between  Bruce  and  herself. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

IT  was  late  before  the  camp-fire  died  down 
that  night.  There  was  much  eager  conversa 
tion  and  sanguine  anticipation  among  the 
party  ;  for,  now,  since  that  decisive  conversa 
tion  between  Bruce  and  Mr.  X,  the  future  of 
the  town  was  assured,  though  it  was  only  rep 
resented  as  yet  by  these  few  tents  gleaming 
white  in  the  moonlight.  As  the  men  sat 
around  the  fire  discussing  in  high  spirits  the 
projects  which  now  indeed  looked  like  realities, 
the  question  of  the  name  was  again  brought  up. 

"  It  should  be  decided  upon  at  once,"  said 
one  gentleman;  "  the  thing  is  ready  now  to  be 
brought  before  the  public  as  prominently  as 
possible,  and  the  name,  of  course,  is  of  the  first 
importance.  Gentlemen,  I  think  there  will  be 
only  one  sentiment  among  you  when  I  propose 
the  name  of  one  to  whose  zeal  and  energy  we 
are  indebted  more  than  to  anything  else  for 
our  encouraging  prospects,  the  name  of  Mr. 
Bruce  Musgrove.  I  propose  that  the  town  be 
named  after  him  :  MUSGROVE." 

H5 


146  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

If  Bruce  had  had  any  doubt  of  the  estimation 
in  which  he  was  held  by  the  inhabitants  of  the 
valley,  it  might  now  have  been  set  at  rest. 

The  proposition  was  accepted  with  enthusi 
asm.  One  and  all  stood  up,  making  a  very 
picturesque  group  as  the  fire-light  fell  upon 
their  faces,  and  one  and  all  vociferously  de 
clared  that  the  new-born  town  should  be 
named  MUSGROVE. 

The  young  man  to  whom  this  honor  had 
been  paid,  and  who  sat  just  a  little  apart, 
watched  his  companions  for  a  moment.  For 
a  second  time  that  day  he  tasted  the  keen 
pleasure  of  gratified  ambition,  a  pleasure  which 
only  such  minds  as  his  can  know.  His  strong 
face  flushed  and  then  paled,  as  he  rose  to  his 
feet  and  in  a  few  brief  words  thanked  his  com 
panions,  assuring  them  that  it  would  be  his 
highest  satisfaction  to  deserve  in  the  future  the 
good  things  they  had  said  of  him,  and  to  help 
to  make  the  town — his  namesake — a  credit 
and  pride  to  the  valley  and  the  country. 

It  was  not  strange  that  Bruce  lay  awake 
that  night  long  after  silence  had  fallen  upon 
the  camp,  but  it  was  strange  and  sad  that,  as 
he  lay  building  up  the  fabric  of  the  future 
under  the  solemn  stars,  that  gaze  upon  empires 
and  nations  as  they  rise  and  fall,  there  should 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  147 

have  been  no  thought  of  HIM  without  whose 
will  not  a  sparrow  falleth  to  the  ground. 
Strange  and  sad  that  the  mind  which  emanates 
from  Him  should  not  look  upward  to  the 
"  Father  of  Lights." 

That  night,  as  Ada  knelt  in  prayer  by  the 
bedside  of  Edith  Ashleigh,  earnestly  and 
tenderly  she  prayed  for  Bruce. 

Was  it  in  answer  to  that  prayer  that  in  the 
midst  of  his  ambitious  dreams  a  feeling  of 
solemnity  or  sadness  crept  upon  him,  and  the 
words  of  the  hymn  which  his  cousin  had  sung 
that  Sunday  night  at  the  ranch  came  whisper 
ing  past  him  in  the  wind  ? 

I  was  not  ever  thus,  nor  pray'd  that  Thou 

Should'st  lead  me  on  ; 
I  loved  to  choose  and  see  my  path  ;  but  now 

Lead  Thou  me  on. 

I  loved  the  garish  day  ;  and,  spite  of  fears, 
Pride  ruled  my  will  :  remember  not  past  years. 

How  sweetly,  ah,  how  sweetly  she  had  sung 
them!  With  what  intensity  of  feeling  !  Yet 
what  could  she  know  of  the  pride  that  rules 
the  heart  ? 

With  a  feeling  of  sadness  upon  him,  Bruce 
fell  asleep. 

The  day  had  passed  so  quietly  to  Ada  that 
when  night  came  she  scarcely  felt  fatigued,  yet, 


148  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

in  obedience  to  Mr.  Ashleigh's  orders,  took  her 
share  of  rest.  Never  had  she  cared  for  a 
sweeter  and  more  patient  sufferer  ;  never  had 
nursing  been  less  of  a  -burden,  more  of  a 
pleasure. 

There  was  a  delightful  sense  of  calm,  as 
though  the  very  spirit  of  peace  and  holy  love 
brooded  over  the  little  dwelling.  It  seemed  a 
quiet  waiting  for  the  Father's  will,  whether  life 
or  death  should  be  the  fiat. 

It  was  the  first  of  many  days  so  spent,  for 
although  the  immediate  danger  was  over  and 
the  symptoms  were  generally  favorable,  it 
would  be  many  weeks  before  Edith  Ashleigh 
could  attain  even  her  ordinary  measure  of 
health. 

So,  Ada,  with  her  aunt's  loving  consent, 
grieved  though  Mrs.  Musgrove  was  to  part 
with  her  niece,  even  for  a  season,  made  up  her 
mind  to  remain  at  the  parsonage. 

Frequent  were  the  visits  paid  by  Mrs.  Mus 
grove  to  the  Ashleighs.  It  seemed  as  though 
her  natural  tenderness,  which  for  so  long  a 
time  had  had  no  channel  except  that  of  love 
and  care  for  her  children — often,  indeed,  only 
another  form  of  selfishness,  flowed  out  in  acts 
of  affectionate  sympathy  towards  those  who 
had  been  until  now  strangers  to  her. 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


149 


Every  day  or  two  her  kindly  face  would 
appear  at  the  parsonage,  and  Mrs.  Ashleigh 
soon  learned  to  love  Ada  Selwyn's  aunt  on 
other  grounds  than  simply  because  she  held 
that  relation  to  her  friend.  Delicacies  which 
only  Mrs.  Musgrove's  experienced  hand  could 
construct,  fruits  and  flowers,  the  finest  and 
most  fragrant,  were  constantly  brought  from 
the  ranch  to  the  parsonage,  oftentimes  by 
Hugh,  when  his  mother  herself  did  not  come. 

On  the  second  Sunday  after  Mrs.  Ashleigh's 
illness,  Mrs.  Musgrove,  accompanied  by  her 
younger  son,  attended  for  the  first  time  the 
service  in  the  little  church  at  Caliente. 

It  was  no  surprise  now,  but  a  source  of  ex 
ceeding  pleasure,  to  Mr.  Ashleigh  to  see  the 
mother  and  son  enter  the  little  building.  It 
was  with  emotion,  so  deep  as  hardly  to  be  re 
strained,  that,  kneeling  by  her  son's  side,  she 
heard,  after  years  of  estrangement,  the  old 
familiar  words  of  the  Church's  Service.  A 
voice  from-  the  past  it  seemed  indeed  ;  a  voice 
speaking  of  early  years,  when,  in  her  far 
Eastern  home  she  had  been  surrounded  by  the 
influences  of  religion— a  voice  which  seemed 
to  ask  for  an  account  of  those  long  years  of 
worldly  prosperity,  from  which,  by  slow  and 
sad  degrees,  all  thoughts  and  aims  connected 
with  the  higher  life  had  disappeared. 


150  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

There  was  far  more  pain  than  comfort  in  it 
at  first,  but  gradually  there  came  a  foretaste, 
as  it  were,  a  dawn  of  peace,  of  that  peace 
which  the  world  cannot  give  nor  take  away. 

Ada  would  have  dearly  liked  to  accompany 
her  aunt,  but  she  would  not  desert  her  post  ; 
and  it  was  a  deep  joy  to  know  that  Mrs.  Mus- 
grove  had  really  taken  the  decisive  step  which 
Ada  felt  assured  was  the  beginning  of  a  new 
life. 

By  the  following  Sunday  she  was  herself 
able  to  resume  her  place  at  the  organ,  and  it 
was  with  a  thrill  of  the  intensest  pleasure  that 
she  saw  the  dear  faces  of  her  aunt  and  cousin 
among  the  congregation. 

Another  and  another  week  passed  by,  and 
there  came  a  day  when  the  aunt  and  niece 
knelt  side  by  side  at  the  altar,  partaking  to 
gether  of  the  Bread  of  Life,  and  we  may  well 
believe  that  prayers  unspeakable  went  up  from 
both  their  hearts  for  those  nearest  and  dearest 
who  had  not  yet  turned  their  faces  towards  the 
light. 

In  all  these  weeks  Ada  had  neither  seen 
Nettie  nor  Bruce.  Nettie  was  paying  a  long 
visit  to  her  friend,  Miss  Crofton.  A  day  or 
two  after  Ada  had  gone  to  Caliente,  she  had 
received  a  loving  invitation  from  her  friend, 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  \  5  I 

and  Mrs.  Musgrove  had  made  no  objection  to 
her  going,  though  she  would  very  gladly  have 
kept  her  daughter  with  her.  Since  that  night 
when  she  had  watched  Nettie  in  her  sleep,  a 
passionate  desire  had  sprung  up  within  her  that 
her  child  should  lead  a  worthier  life  than 
hitherto,  but  she  looked  for  Ada  to  reinforce 
her  own  efforts,  and  in  the  mean  time  did  not 
thwart  Nettie's  wish  to  leave  home. 

Bruce  had  ridden  over  to  the  ranch  occasion 
ally,  but  had  not  passed  through  Caliente  since 
he  had  met  Ada  that  early  morning.  Every 
day  had  brought  with  it  business  and  respon 
sibility  ;  he  lived  in  what  was,  to  his  tempera 
ment,  an  exciting  atmosphere.  He  was  really 
the  moving  spirit  in  the  whirl  of  stirring  ambi 
tions,  business  projects  and  activities  of  various 
kinds  which  centred  round  the  new  town  of 
Musgrove.  It  had  been  necessary  to  take  a 
couple  of  trips  to  San  Francisco,  for  Bruce  had 
been  deputed  to  make  the  final  arrangements 
about  the  railway,  and  to  see  several  land 
speculators,  whose  interest  in  the  town  of  Mus 
grove  would  be  a  great  factor  in  the  growth  of 
the  place.  Success  had  attended  every  step 
which  he  had  taken,  and  he  returned  from  his 
second  visit  with  news  so  favorable  that  his 
colleagues  were  more  than  ever  impressed  by 
his  sagacity,  tact,  and  ability. 


152 


THE  MUSGROVE  RA\CH. 


A  slight  shadow  of  coolness  had  sprung  up 
in  Miss  Crofton's  manner  to  Bruce  since  the 
evening  when  he  had  seemed  so  unnecessarily 
inclined  to  defend  his  cousin  from  her  sarcasm  ; 
but,  truth  to  tell,  Bruce  in  the  rush  of  occupa 
tions  had  not  been  conscious  of  it.  He  had 
been  at  the  Crofton  ranch  several  times,  the 
more  frequently  that  Nettie  was  there.  Young 
Crofton  would  generally  propose  riding  over 
about  sundown,  when  the  business  of  the  day 
was  over,  and  Bruce  often  accompanied  him. 
After  that  one  experience  Miss  Crofton  seldom 
mentioned  Ada,  but  Nettie  was  often  the  echo 
of  her  friend's  remarks,  and  would  sometimes 
refer  to  her  cousin  in  her  pretty,  petulant  way, 
now  ridiculing  Ada's  absurd  notions,  now  com 
plaining  that  she  herself  had  really  been  de 
serted  by  her  mother. 

Miss  Crofton  well  knew  that  ridicule  is  a 
most  potent  weapon  of  attack,  and  while  Net 
tie's  little  speeches  were  so  trifling  that  it  seem 
ed  not  worth  while  to  notice  them,  yet  they 
produced  a  sort  of  mental  irritation.  Of  all 
things,  Bruce  objected  to  anything  being  ridic 
ulous,  and  Miss  Crofton,  with  a  skill  worthy  of 
a  better  cause,  was  trying  to  make  Ada's 
course  of  action  ridiculous  in  her  cousin's  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

So  the  days  and  the  weeks  sped  by,  and  it 
was  marvelous  how  the  town  of  Musgrove  took 
shape,  not  on  paper  merely,  but  in  reality. 
Not  white  tents  only  now  dotted  the  gentle 
incline,  but  whole  blocks  of  buildings  were 
springing  up  as  if  by  enchantment,  while  acres 
upon  acres  of  the  surrounding  land  were  being 
planted  with  a  hundred  varieties  of  fruit  trees, 
gardens  laid  out,  roads  graded  in  all  directions, 
and,  above  all,  a  long  perspective  of  little  flags, 
stretching  southward,  meant  that  the  coming 
railway  was  near  at  hand. 

Then  came  a  day  when  a  great  excursion 
from  Los  Angeles  and  San  Bernardino  and 
various  other  points  to  the  new  town  of  Mus 
grove  took  place,  and  whole  lines  of  convey 
ances,  from  the  heavy  country  wagon  up  to  the 
well-appointed  city  carriage,  converged  tow 
ards  the  foot-hills,  and  a  great  sale  of  land 
took  place,  which  was,  as  it  were,  the  first  leap 
into  the  light  of  the  new  town.  Fortunes  were 
made  that  day,  and  amongst  them  that  of 
Bruce  Musgrove.  He  had  been  a  prosperous 
'53 


154 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


man  before,  but  now  he  was  a  man  of  wealth, 
with  the  assured  prospect  of  having  that  wealth 
doubled  or  trebled  before  a  few  more  years 
should  have  passed  over  his  head. 

The  long,  long  summer  had  merged  into 
autumn.  The  grapes  had  been  gathered,  and 
the  vineyards  had  turned  brown  and  sere. 
The  oranges  were  beginning  to  ripen,  and  the 
deciduous  trees  were  gradually  turning  bare, 
while  their  remaining  leaves  were  putting  on 
the  sweet,  sad  colors  of  decay. 

Dust  lay  deep,  deep  upon  the  roadways  ;  and 
the  uncultivated  land,  dry  and  unlovely  from 
the  long  drouth,  looked  as  though  no  such 
lovely  things  as  flowers  and  verdure  could  ever 
spring  from  it  again. 

And  at  last  mists  gathered  among  the  mount 
ains,  and  their  tops  became  obscured  with 
clouds,  and  the  autumn  rains  were  spoken  of  as 
near  at  hand. 

Hugh  had  driven  over  to  Caliente  to  bring 
Ada  back  to  the  ranch.  Her  return  had  been 
delayed  again  and  again,  for  it  was  not  easy  to 
leave  the  Ashleighs,  to  whom  her  presence  had 
brought  such  comfort,  and  where  such  tender 
gratitude  and  affection  seemed  to  enchain  her. 
But  Mrs.  Ashleigh  was  so  much  better  than 
they  had  dared  to  hope,  and  both  she  and  her 


THE  M USG ROVE  RANCH.  155 

husband  began  to  accuse  themselves  of  selfish 
ness  in  keeping  their  young  friend  with  them 
any  longer.  Then,  after  diligent  search,  Ada 
had  found  a  young  orphan  girl,  gentle  and 
helpful,  who  was  installed  as  servant,  and  paid 
by  Mrs.  Musgrove  as  her  personal  contribution 
to  the  missionary. 

And,  at  last,  with  promises  of  very  frequent 
visits,  and  many  injunctions  to  her  late  patient 
to  take  every  possible  care  of  herself,  and  after 
a  tender  leave-taking,  Ada  went  away. 

"  Well,  I  have  got  you  at  last,"  said  Hugh, 
wrapping  a  warm  rug  about  his  cousin,  for  the 
wind  blew  quite  cold  ;  "  we  have  missed  you 
horribly,  though  of  course  we  could  not  be 
grudge  you  to  the  Ashl'eighs.  You  may  have 
the  comfort  of  knowing  that  you  have  saved 
her  life  and  put  new  life  into  him." 

Ada  laughed  away  his  congratulations. 

"  Are  Bruce  and  Nettie  at  home  ?"  she  ask 
ed  ;  "  it  seems  an  age  since  I  saw  either  of 
them." 

"They  were  to  come  back  this  evening,  and 
I  should  not  wonder  if  we  found  them  there 
before  us,"  he  replied.  "  I  think  Bruce  is  going 
to  devote  himself  to  home  duties  for  the  winter. 
Everything  is  going  on  finely  at  '  Musgrove,' 
and  my  noble  brother  is  coming  home  almost 


THE  MUSG  ROVE  RANCH. 


a  millionaire  I  believe.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that 
he  will  share  with  his  brother,  who  has  been 
faithfully  doing  double  work  in  his  absence." 

"  Of  course  he  will,"  said  Ada. 

Hugh's  horse  made  splendid  time,  as  if  alive 
to  the  fact  that  he  was  taking  Ada  back  to  the 
Musgrove  Ranch,  and  Ada  enjoyed  the  rapid 
ride  with  Hugh  beside  her,  and  with  the  pros 
pect  of  meeting  the  others  so  soon. 

She  thought  that  the  touch  of  autumn  added 
to  the  beauty  of  the  ranch,  which  wore  to  her 
a  different  aspect,  for  the  deciduous  trees,  being 
nearly  bare,  opened  up  new  views  of  the  mount 
ains.  Some  of  the  vines  about  the  veranda 
were  leafless,  but  the  live-oak  was  green  and 
dark  as  ever. 

"  Welcome  back,  dear  child  !"  said  her  aunt, 
who  stood  awaiting  her  on  the  porch.  "  I  can 
not  tell  you  half  how  we  have  missed  you.  And 
Bruce  and  Nettie  are  coming  too,"  she  added 
cheerfully  ;  "  we  shall  be  all  together  during  the 
rains.  I  am  so  glad,  for  otherwise  it  is  a  dull 
time  when  you  cannot  get  out." 

It  was  quite  late  that  night  when  the  brother 
and  sister  arrived,  so  late  that  Ada  could  only 
welcome  them  and  say  "  good  night." 

Nettie,  after  all,  was  not  sorry  to  come  home, 
and  returned  her  mother's  kiss  fondly  enough. 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


"  Well,  Ada,"  she  said,  holding  her  cousin  at 
arm's  length,  while  she  looked  at  her,  "  I  don't 
think  nursing  agrees  with  you ;  you  have  got 
thinner,  and  paler  too,"  and  then  she  kissed  her 
not  ungraciously. 

"  You  are  looking  splendid,"  said  Ada;  "  I 
should  think  you  must  have  lived  on  horse 
back." 

"  Well,  I  did,  pretty  nearly,"  said  Nettie, 
laughing.  "  Louise  and  I  rode  up  to  Musgrove 
nearly  every  day.  I  can  tell  you  we  had  a 
great  deal  of  fun." 

"  You  have  got  home  at  last,  Ada." 

It  was  Bruce  who  had  just  entered.  He  held 
out  his  hand,  and  Ada,  looking  up  at  him, 
thought  that  he  seemed  much  older  than  when 
she  had  seen  him  last.  He  was  deeply  bronzed 
by  the  sunshine  in  which  he  had  spent  so  many 
weeks,  and  the  look  of  determination  which 
his  face  had  always  worn  had  deepened  almost 
to  sternness. 

"  Yes,  Bruce,  I  got  back  a  few  hours  ago. 
Hugh  came  for  me  and  carried  me  off." 

"  Otherwise  I  suppose  you  would  have  re 
mained  indefinitely  at  Caliente." 

There  was  the  old  mocking  tone,  which  half 
pained,  half  pleased  her. 

"  And  yet  I  am  glad  to  be  with  you  all  again," 


158  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

she  said,  smiling  good-humoredly  ;  "  I  shall  like 
to  be  wakened  by  the  workmen's  bell  to-mor 
row  morning  ;  but  I  must  say  '  good  night ' 
now,  or  even  that  will  not  waken  me." 

The  gentle  voice,  the  manner  so  self-pos 
sessed,  yet  so  modest,  the  bright,  calm  face — 
Bruce  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  or  two  in 
silence,  until  Ada  began  to  think  she  had  of 
fended  him  again,  and  then  he  said  "  good 
night." 

A  change  had  come  over  the  Musgrove 
Ranch  since  Ada  had  come  to  live  there.  It 
was,  in  one  sense,  a  house  divided  against 
itself;  there  were  "  three  against  two  and  two 
against  three,"  for  now  Ada  was  not  alone  in 
living  not  for  this  present  world  only. 

Mrs.  Musgrove  had  yielded  herself  heart  and 
soul  to  the  blessed  influence  which  in  the  per 
son  of  Ada  had  been  brought  to  bear  upon  her, 
and  Hugh,  most  like  his  mother  of  all  her  chil 
dren,  in  fulfilling  his  promise  made  to  Ada,  that 
he  would  think  seriously  of  the  great  questions 
they  had  spoken  of  together,  had  come  to  see 
with  a  strong  conviction  that  life  without  God 
is  a  failure,  be  it  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  ever 
so  great  a  success. 

Neither  the  ridicule  nor  indifference  of  Bruce 
or  Nettie  could  weigh  now  either  with  Hugh  or 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


'59 


their  mother,  but  whether  their  own  influence 
combined  with  that  of  Ada  could  have  any 
weight  with  the  brother  and  sister  remained  to 
be  seen. 

When  Sunday  came  round  Hugh  drove  his 
mother  and  cousin  to  Caliente.  Bruce  had  not 
appeared  at  breakfast  ;  Nettie  looked  injured, 
if  not  disgusted,  when  they  drove  away,  but 
she  wasted  no  words  on  this  occasion  except  to 
say  that  they  would  certainly  be  caught  in  the 
rain. 

It  was  indeed  clouding  up  heavily  on  all  sides, 
and  the  wind  blew  cold  from  the  southeast, 
the  rainy  quarter  in  Southern  California. 

They  went,  however,  and  returned  before  the 
rain  began,  which  it  did  very  soon  afterwards. 

At  first  it  «ame  in  slow  and  heavy  drops,  but 
soon  in  such  rushing  torrents  that  Ada  felt  al 
most  frightened.  The  wind,  too,  rose  to  a 
tempest  and  swept  round  the  house  with  a  roar 
which  seemed  to  threaten  its  destruction. 

Ada  was  sitting,  in  the  afternoon,  watching 
the  rushing  rain  and  listening  to  the  uproar  of 
the  wind,  half  fascinated,  half  frightened,  when 
Bruce  joined  her. 

"  We  don't  do  anything  by  halves  in  Califor 
nia,"  he  said,  taking  a  seat  near  her ;  "  you  see, 
when  it  rains,  it  rains.  How  do  you  like  it  ? " 


I6O  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

"  Very  much,"  she  said,  "  if  it  does  not  sweep 
us  away." 

"  There  is  not  much  danger  of  that  here. 
Higher  up  towards  the  mountains  cloud-bursts 
occur  occasionally." 

"  They  must  be  terrible  ;  have  you  ever  wit 
nessed  one  ?  " 

"  I  just  escaped  one  once,  but  I  was  glad  that 
I  had  seen  it.  It  is  one  of  the  most  awful  sights 
in  nature.  The  tremendous  havoc  which  it 
makes  gives  one  an  idea  of  chaos." 

Then  they  sat  silent  for  a  while,  looking  out. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"  How  near  is  your  new  town  to  the  mount 
ains  ?  "  said  Ada. 

"  Nearer  than  this  by  some  miles,  but  out  of 
the  region  of  cloud-bursts,"  he  answered. 

"  I  was  glad  when  Hugh  told  me  that  they 
had  named  it  '  Musgrove,'  "  she  said;  "  you  de 
served  it." 

Bruce  colored. 

"  Can  you  consistently  think  it  well  that  the 
town  should  be  named  after  me  ? "  he  asked, 
"  a  new  town — a  new  centre — after  a  person 
who  presumes  to  differ  from  the  orthodox 
faith  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  good  name,"  she  said  softly,  "  and 
the  time  may  come  when  he  who  bears  it  will 
not  think  that  to  leave  God  out  of  his  life  and 
his  purposes  is  a  proof  of  superior  strength  and 
wisdom." 

The  words  seemed  a  severe  rebuke,  but  the 
soft  eyes  and  sweet,  sad  lips  seemed  to  plead 
with  him  for  himself. 

Bruce  rose  abruptly  from  his  seat,  walked  to 
and  fro  for  a  time,  then  took  it  again. 


1 62  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

"  You  do  not  encourage  a  man's  vanity,  at  all 
events,"  he  said,  with  an  angry  little  laugh; 
"  fortunately  vanity  is  not  one  of  my  sins." 

"  No,"  she  said,  *'  no,  I  have  never  thought 
you  vain.  Vanity  is  an  unmanly  weakness,  and 
you  are  certainly  not  unmanly." 

"Thank  you,"  he  rejoined,  scoffingly;  "it  is 
really  comforting  that  you  do  not  altogether 
condemn  me." 

"  I  ought  not  to  speak  to  you,  when  you  ridi 
cule  me,"  she  said,  quietly, "  but,  you  see,  I  be 
lieve  in  your  better  nature.  I  don't  know  that 
I  should  wish  you  to  be  unlike  what  you  are, 
only — " 

"Only  what? — but  I  need  not  ask;  you 
would  like  me  to  be  a  meek  disciple  of  the  Rev. 
Father  Ashleigh,  without  an  independent 
thought  of  my  own.  You  would  like  me  to  kill 
out  the  only  part  of  my  being  which  I  value — the 
freedom  and  the  power  of  abstract  thought." 

"  I  ought  to  thank  you  in  turn  for  your  high 
appreciation  of  me,"  said  Ada,  '•  but  you  are 
talking  at  random,  Bruce.  You  know  as  well 
as  I  do  that  the  power  you  value  most  in  your 
self  is  no  less  valuable  to  me.  I  have  always 
longed  to  speak  to  you  of  these  things,  but  I 
have  really  been  afraid  of  you,  Bruce  ;  you  were 
almost  crueJ  to  me  that  day  in  the  Canon." 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  163 

"Well,  my  cruelty  did  not  deter  you  from 
following  your  own  way  in  every  particular, 
and  from  proselytizing  mother  and  Hugh,"  lie 
added  harshly. 

"If  faith  is  anything,  it  ought  certainly  to 
enable  us  to  endure,  at  least,  a  little  measure 
of  hardness,"  she  said.  "I  told  you  that  day 
that  it  was  not  a  matter  of  choice  with  me,  but 
of  necessity." 

"  You  righteous  people  are  wonderfully  clever 
in  adapting  principles  to  practice." 

"  You  mean  that  in  following  my  own  self- 
will  I  quieted  my  conscience  by  calling  it  duty." 

"  You  put  it  very  plainly,"  he  replied. 

"  If  I  thought  you  really  took  that  view  of  it, 
I  should  be  very  unhappy,  but  I  cannot  quite 
believe  it.  Bruce,  there  is  something  in  your 
inner  consciousness  that  makes  you  know 
you're  judging  me  unfairly." 

"  Why  are  you  not  angry  with  me  ? "  he  said 
impatiently,  half  kindly ;  "  if  you  were,  there 
would  be  some  satisfaction  in  scolding  you." 

"  I  am  not  at  all  too  good  to  be  angry,  but 
when  I  am  sorry  about  a  thing  it  is  a  distinct 
thing  from  anger." 

"  And  you  are  sorry  for  me  ?"  he  asked,  curi 
ously. 

"Yes,  Bruce,"  she  answered,  slowly;  "I  am 


I  64  THE  M USC ROVE  RANCH. 

very  sorry  for  you."  And  again,  as  on  that  day 
in  the  Canon,  she  looked  at  him  with  sweet 
compassion  in  her  face. 

A  mocking  answer  was  on  his  lip,  but  the 
words  remained  unspoken. 

Again  they  sat  in  silence,  watching  the  down 
pour,  and  the  trees  bending  and  writhing  in 
the  fierce  wind. 

What  an  extraordinary  change  from  the 
scene  to  which  Ada  had  grown  accustomed, 
the  almost  perpetual  sunshine,  the  blue  skies 
and  brilliant  flowers.  There  was  a  desolation 
in  it — a  sunless  world  given  up  to  tempest. 

When  they  next  spoke  it  was  of  other  things. 
Ada  was  really  desirous  of  knowing  all  about 
the  new  town  and  its  prospects,  and  she  asked 
her  cousin  many  questions. 

"  And  is  it  really  true,  Bruce,"  she  said  at 
last,  "  or  was  Hugh  joking  when  he  said  that 
you  were  not  far  off  from  being  a  million 
aire  ? " 

"At  all  events  it  was  not  a  very  gross  exag 
geration.  Are  you  much  impressed  with  the 
fact?"  he  added,  laughing. 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  am.  Millionaires  are  rather 
awful  people  to  me." 

"  Especially  when  they  are  heathen,  I  sup 
pose  ? " 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  165 

"  Especially  when  they  are  heathen  ;  in  fact, 
then  they  are  absolutely  terrible." 

"  Then  I  must  be  in  no  hurry  to  become  one, 
as  you  would  shun  me  altogether." 

"Butywf  are  not  going  to  be  a  heathen  mill 
ionaire,  Bruce,  I  have  faith  to  believe." 

"  Do  not  deceive  yourself,"  he  said;  "even 
you — even  you,  Ada,  cannot  unmake  me.  I  am 
cast  in  a  different  mold  from  my  brother." 

Nettie  came  to  se2  what  had  become  of  Ada, 
and  thus  the  longest,  and  on  the  whole,  the 
most  friendly,  talk  which  Bruce  and  Ada  had 
had  together,  since  their  first  difference,  came 
to  a  close. 

All  that  night  the  storm  raged  and  the  rain 
fell  in  torrents.  Ada  was  awake  many  times 
listening  to  the  tumult.  Once  or  twice  she  was 
on  the  point  of  rising  and  going  to  her  aunt's 
room,  but  the  utter  silence  in  the  house  made 
her  conclude  that  there  was  no  cause  for  alarm. 
Towards  morning  she  fell  into  a  deep  sleep, 
which  lasted  far  beyond  her  usual  time  for  ris 
ing,  and  when  she  did  awake  it  was  to  find  her 
aunt  standing  by  her  bedside. 

"  You  were  having  such  a  deep,  sweet  sleep, 
child,  that  I  had  not  the  heart  to  wake  you," 
she  said,  "but  you  are  such  an  early  riser  that 
we  began  to  fear  that  you  were  not  well, 


1 66  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

and  Bruce  sent  me  up  to  see  what  was  the 
matter." 

Ada  smiled  happily.  She  was  glad  to  know 
that  Bruce  had  missed  her. 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  think  of  being  so  late, 
but,  Auntie,  I  was  really  frightened  at  the 
storm.  It  sounded  dreadful,  and — why  it  is  go 
ing  on  still  !  "  she  exclaimed,  for  just  then  a 
sheet  of  rain  was  driven  against  the  windows 
and  a  long  howl  of  wind  went  round  the  house. 

"  O,  yes,  we  shall  probably  have  three  or 
four  days  of  it,"  said  the  elder  lady,  contented 
ly;  "  it  is  not  pleasant  while  it  lasts,  but,  my 
dear,  these  autumn  rains  are  our  very  life.  It 
is  a  new  world  for  us  when  they  have  sunk 
down  into  the  thirsty  land.  You  will  see  how 
much  more  beautiful  this  country  is  when  the 
natural  grasses  spring  up,  and  when  our  mount 
ains  are  capped  with  snow.  But  now,  get  up, 
and  I  will  go  to  tell  Bruce  that  you  are  not 
sick." 

She  looked  a  little  archly  at  Ada,  as  she 
spoke,  for  the  idea  had  for  the  first  time  dawn 
ed  upon  her  that  morning  that  her  son  Bruce, 
the  one  in  whom  her  pride  had  chiefly  cen 
tred,  though,  to  use  the  homely  phrase,  she  had 
taken  less  "  comfort  "  in  him  than  in  her  other 
children,  was  beginning  to  entertain  something 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  167 

more  than  a  cousinly  feeling  for  Ada.  Ah  !  if 
indeed  Ada  could  be  her  daughter  !  If  she 
once  had  a  wife's  influence  over  Bruce,  what 
might  she  not  accomplish  ! 

It  was  well  that  Ada  knew  nothing  of  the 
thought  passing  through  her  aunt's  mind, 
otherwise  she  could  not  have  been  so  absolute 
ly  unconscious  when  she  appeared  at  the  break 
fast-table  refreshed  and  rosy  from  her  long 
morning  sleep. 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  us  you  were  afraid  ? " 
said  Nettie.  "  I  would  have  gone  to  comfort 
you."  And  Ada  owned  that  she  did  not  want 
to  be  thought  a  coward. 

"  Weakness  number  two  !  "  said  Bruce;  "rat 
tlesnakes  and  rain-storms." 

It  seemed  to  be  going  over  again  the  first 
pleasant  days  at  the  ranch,  to  find  that  Bruce 
had  got  over  his  harshness,  and  was  at  least 
reconciled  to  the  new  order  of  things.  The 
truth  was  that  among  the  late  excitements  and 
successes  of  his  life,  his  anger  and  bitterness  of 
feeling  at  the  new  relations  between  his  family 
and  the  Ashleighs  (not  to  speak  of  the  church) 
had  lost  their  force,  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  meek  determination  of  Ada,  and  her  forgiv 
ing  sweetness,  had,  all  unconsciously  to  himself, 
had  their  influence  upon  him.  Yet,  as  he  had 


1 68  THE  AWSGROVE  RANCH. 

said  to  Ada,  he  was  cast  in  a  different  mold 
from  his  brother  ;  he  was  made  of  "  sterner 
stuff"  and  it  would  need  a  far  different  process 
to  soften  it. 

Three  days  of  almost  incessant  down-pour 
passed  very  pleasantly  to  Ada,  shut  up  within 
the  attractive  home  of  the  Musgroves.  The 
temporary  separation  of  the  family  seemed  to 
have  made  them  the  more  enjoy  each  other's 
society,  and  Ada  would  alv/ays  remember, 
through  the  after-years,  those  days  so  dark 
without,  so  bright  within,  when  a  new  joy,  she 
knew  not  what,  nor  sought  to  know,  was  added 
to  her  life. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

BRUCE  and  his  brother,  cased  in  water-proof 
from  head  to  foot,  would  sally  forth  twice  a 
day  on  a  tour  of  general  inspection  ;  for  the 
elder  brother  was  very  systematic  in  every 
thing  connected  with  the  ranch,  and  trusted 
very  little  to  those  less  interested  than  himself. 
Stables  and  stalls,  water-pipes  and  flumes, 
were  taken  account  of  day  by  day,  and  the 
men  employed  felt  that  a  master's  eye  was 
upon  them. 

On  their  return  to  the  house,  the  brothers 
would  bring  back  some  little  message  from 
outside  to  the  imprisoned  ladies.  Once  it  was 
a  little  half-drowned  pigeon,  which  had  slipped 
from  the  edge  of  the  dove-cote,  and  Bruce  had 
picked  up  half-dead,  and  brought  to  be  nursed 
back  to  life  by  Ada  and  Nettie.  Again  it  was 
a  bunch  of  dripping  rose-buds,  which  Hugh 
had  gathered,  not  open  enough  to  be  beaten 
asunder  by  the  rain;  and  on  the  third  evening 
Bruce  brought  in  a  little  branch  of  olive. 

"  The  waters  are  subsiding,"  he  said,  as  he 
169 


I  jro  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

handed  them  to  Ada  ;  "  I  bring  you  the  prom 
ise  of  better  things." 

'•  It  is  a  beautiful  token,"  she  answered, 
taking  it  from  his  hands;  "  I  accept  it  as  such." 

She  took  it  up  to  her  room  with  her  and 
placed  it  in  water,  where  it  lived  for  many 
days. 

The  lengthening  evenings  in  the  home-like 
drawing-room  were  delightful.  Music,  chess, 
and  pleasant  converse  in  the  softened  lamp 
light,  while  the  fire  of  manzanita  and  Eucalyp 
tus  crackled  and  sparkled  in  the  wide,  open 
grate,  and  the  rushing  rain  and  wind  made 
the  contrast  more  charming. 

Ada  was  an  only  child  and  an  orphan,  and 
there  was  something  inexpressibly  sweet  to 
her  in  this  home-life,  into  which  she  had  been 
so  lovingly  welcomed.  How  much  she  her 
self  added  to  its  charms,  she  was  unconscious 
of,  but  all  the  others,  even  Nettie  not  excepted, 
acknowledged  her  sweet  influence. 

"  Will  you  sing  something,  Ada  ?  "  asked 
Bruce,  one  evening.  It  was  the  first  time  he 
had  ever  asked  her. 

"  What  would  you  like  ?  "  she  said. 

He  would  have  liked  to  hear  what  she  had 
sung  that  evening  when  he  stood  apart  looking 
out  into  the  moon-lit  garden.  The  words  and 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


171 


tones  had  haunted  him  ever  since,  but  it  seemed 
incongruous  in  himself  to  ask  for  it. 

"  Anything  you  like,"  he  answered. 

Opening  her  music-book,  she  chanced  upon 
that  lovely  song,  "  O  wert  thou  in  the  cauld 
blast."  Its  exquisite  melody  and  pathos  made 
it  one  of  her  chief  favorites,  and  she  sang  to 
night  as  never  before. 


' '  My  plaidie  to  the  angry  airt, 
I'd  shelter  thee,  I'd  shelter  thee." 


It  was  with  a  pleasure  that  was  almost  pain, 
that  Bruce  listened  to  the  pure,  liquid  notes  so 
touching  in  their  simplicity. 

"Ada,"  exclaimed  Hugh,  "you  are  the 
sweetest  singer  I  have  ever  heard,  and  that  is 
the  loveliest  song." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?"  she  said,  laughing  soft 
ly  ;  "it  is  a  great  favorite  of  mine.  Did  you 
like  it  Bruce  ? "  she  asked  a  little  timidly,  for 
he  had  only  thanked  her  without  expressing 
an  opinion. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  like  it." 

"  Sing  it  again,"  said  Nettie ;  but  Ada,  instead 
of  doing  so,  sang  a  tender  little  Italian  air 
which  they  did  not  understand. 

"  I  will  sing  another  time,"  she  said.    "  I  do 


172  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

not  like  to  weary  people;  that  is  one  of  my 
vanities." 

"Just  that  one  beautiful  hymn  for  me,  my 
dear,"  said  Mrs.  Musgrove,  "  Lead,  Kindly 
Light "  ;  and  Ada  sang  it  as  beautifully  as  that 
other  night,  but  without  the  undercurrent  of 
pain  which  had  touched  Bruce  so  strangely. 

"  I  loved  to  see  and  choose  the  path,  but  now 
Lead  Thou  me  on." 

It  was  with  a  different  feeling  in  her  heart 
that  Ada  sang  it  now;  there  was  more  of  hope 
fulness  and  less  of  pain.  Bruce  watched  the 
singer,  and  his  own  face,  as  he  did  so,  grew  veil 
ed  and  sad.  He  had  begun  within  the  last  few 
days  to  discover  his  own  secret.  He  had  begun 
to  acknowledge  to  himself  that,  to  use  the  trite 
expression,  he  had  "  met  his  fate  "  in  Ada.  But 
it  was  with  no  gladness  of  hope  that  he  said 
this  to  himself;  he  knew  too  well  that  between 
himself  and  Ada  there  was  a  barrier  which,  to 
her,  would  be  insurmountable;  and,  if  he  knew 
himself  at  all,  could  never  be  removed. 

On  the  following  morning  Ada  was  awaken 
ed  by  a  flood  of  sunshine  pouring  into  her  win 
dows.  The  world  looked  as  if  new-born;  every 
fleece  of  cloud  had  been  swept  from  the  blue 
dome  of  heaven,  and  the  mountains,  which  had 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  \  73 

t   \J 

been  for  days  blotted  out  by  clouds,  stood  forth 
in  all  the  fullness  of  their  beauty,  in  every  line 
of  light  and  depth  of  shadow,  exquisitely  de 
fined.  It  was  with  a  sense  of  joy  and  loving 
thankfulness  that  the  young  girl  looked  abroad 
upon  the  marvelous  scene.  As  she  stood  lean 
ing  from  her  window,  she  heard  Bruce's  voice 
calling  to  her. 

"  Good  morning,  Ada,"  he  said,  lifting  his 
hat;  "  you  see  the  deluge  is  past.  How  would 
you  like  to  drive  with  me  to  Rocky  Canon  this 
morning  ?  I  want  to  see  whether  the  reservoir 
is  all  right.  But  you  must  not  be  afraid  of  a 
little  rough  driving." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  she  answered;  "  I  was 
just  wishing  that  we  could  go  somewhere  this 
glorious  morning,  and  I  will  try  to  be  as  little 
of  a  coward  as  possible." 

Mrs.  Musgrove  was  a  little  apprehensive  of 
the  drive. 

"The  roads  will  be  badly  washed  out  after 
all  the  rain,"  she  said.  "Really,  Bruce,  I  don't 
feel  comfortable  about  your  going,  even  with 
out  Ada." 

Hugh  thought  it  would  be  all  right  up  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Canon,  but  that  the  road  from 
there  might  be  impracticable.  He  felt  strongly 
inclined  to  suggest  that  he,  and  not  Ada, 


174 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


should  accompany  Bruce,  but  he  had  learned 
to  read  her  face,  and  saw  that  she  had  set  her 
heart  on  going;  so  he  refrained. 

"  You  can  leave  Ada  at  the  Hawleys,"  he 
said,  "  and  take  one  of  the  boys  up  to  the  flume 
with  you." 

"Of  course  Ada  shall  run  no  risks,"  said 
Bruce,  a  little  impatiently;  "  and  if  she  thinks 
the  drive  will  tire  her  too  much — " 

•'  Oh,  no,  do  take  me,  Bruce ;  I  have  not  had 
a  good  long  drive  for  many  weeks,  and  I  am 
really  longing  to  go." 

So  after  breakfast  they  set  out.  They  had  not 
driven  together  since  the  night  when  Bruce 
drove  his  cousin  from  the  picnic,  when  he  had 
been  so  harsh  and  stern,  and  had  shown  his 
character  in  such  an  unlovely  light.  Ada  had 
never  liked  to  think  of  that  evening.  But  to-day 
he  was  at  his  best,  and  what  a  drive  it  was,  and 
what  a  day  ! 

Ada  had  never  felt  quite  so  happy  in  her  life 
before.  It  was  so  good  to  feel  that  she  had  so 
far  gained  what  she  had  prayed  for,  without 
alienating  Bruce.  And  the  fact  that  he  had 
forgiven  her,  might  it  not  mean  that  he  himself 
in  time  might  be  led  by  the  same  blessed  in 
fluence  as  the  others  ? 

They  talked  of  many  things,  Bruce  showing 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


175 


so  much  appreciation  of  what  was  beautiful 
and  true,  and  expressing  so  much  nobility  of 
feeling,  that  Ada,  glancing  at  him  now  and 
then,  felt  that  her  first  impressions  of  him  must 
have  been  true  ones,  and  that  his  fine  face  was 
indeed  the  index  of  his  mind. 

The  road  towards  the  mountains,  level  and 
sandy,  had  bsen  beaten  smooth  and  hard  by 
the  rain,  and  driving  was  excellent.  Here  and 
there  a  covey  of  quail  came  tripping  across  the 
road  from  the  brushwood  on  either  side,  to 
vanish  again  at  sight  of  the  travelers,  and 
then  a  flock  of  wild  canaries,  sweet  singers 
and  delicate,  lovely  creatures,  would  flutter 
upwards  into  the  blue  air  and  settle  again  up 
on  a  bush  which  contained  some  attraction  of 
buds  or  insects. 

Already  a  faint  tracery  of  fresh  green  was 
visible  here  and  there  upon  the  ground,  a  tiny 
fern-like  leaf  which  Bruce  told  Ada  would 
develop  into  the  tall  wild  clover,  beloved  of 
horses  and  cattle. 

"  When  you  see  our  wild  flowers,"  he  said, 
"you  will  indeed  be  charmed  with  California. 
These  slopes  will  look  like  '  the  field  of  the 
cloth  of  gold '  with  the  velvety  orange  of  the 
poppy,  as  it  is  called,  and  then  again  there 
will  be  stretches  of  the  richest  purple  and  the 


176  THE  MUSG ROVE  RANCH. 

purest  white,  and  mosaics  of  pink  and  blue  and 
crimson." 

"  Ah  !  it  must  be  lovely  indeed  !  "  said  Ada, 
"  but  I  can  hardly  fancy  it  more  so  than  it  is 
to-day,"  she  added,  with  a  sigh  of  contentment. 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  our  country,"  said 
Bruce,  slowly,  "  glad  that  you  feel  you  can 
make  your  home  here.  It  is  so,  is  it  not  ? " 

"  Yes;  though  I  am  very  loyal  to  my  past, 
yet  you  know,  Bruce,  in  one  sense  I  have  been 
a  good  deal  alone,  and  there  is  a  delightful 
sense  of  home  with  you  all  which  appeals  to 
me  in  a  way  you  can  hardly  understand,  be 
cause  you  have  never  been  without  it." 

Bruce  was  silent,  and  she  went  on. 

"  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you,  Bruce,  how 
little  we  value  what  we  have  always  had  ? 
There  was  a  young  girl  I  knew  once  who  had 
been  blind  from  early  childhood.  An  oculist 
had  told  her  parents  that  her  sight  might  be 
restored  by  a  difficult  and  delicate  operation, 
but  the  people  were  very,  very  poor,  and  be 
sides  had  grown  accustomed  to  the  girl's  con 
dition,  and  so,  in  time,  got  rather  indifferent 
about  it,  as  well  as  considering  it  beyond 
possibility  to  obtain  the  necessary  money  for 
the  operation. 

"  The  people  lived  in  a  district  that  I  visited, 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  IJJ 

and  from  the  first  time  I  saw  the  girl  I  felt  an 
intense  pity  for  her.  She  had  a  sweet,  sad 
face,  an  appealing  face  that  seemed  to  go  with 
me  when  I  left  her.  So  I  got  the  necessary 
money  and  I  took  her  with  me  to  the  famous 
Doctor  G.  Poor  Josie,  that  was  her  name, 
wanted  me  to  be  with  her  at  the  operation, 
and  I  consented,  with*the  doctor's  permission. 
Am  I  wearying  you,  Bruce  ? " 

"  No,  I  like  to  hear  you;  go  on." 

"Well,  of  course  she  was  herself  unconscious 
of  the  result  for  many  days,  but  the  doctors  told 
me  they  had  every  reason  to  believe  it  was 
altogether  satisfactory,  and  I  longed  to  see  and 
yet  almost  dreaded  the  effect  upon  herself  when 
the  time  came  that  she  might  see. 

"  O,  Bruce,  I  cannot  think  of  it  without  a 
thrill.  For  a  few  days  I  had  not  seen  her,  and 
then — one  morning,  the  doctor  took  me  up  to 
her,  telling  me  that  she  had  been  growing 
accustomed  to  the  light,  and  was  asking  for 
Miss  Selwyn.  When  we  went  in  she  was  sitting 
in  a  softly  shaded  room  ;  the  doctor  had  pre 
pared  her  for  my  coming.  Ah,  that  face, 
those  eyes  with  the  joy  of  sight  in  them  !  She 
held  me  by  the  hands  and  looked  at  me  as  if 
she  could  take  me  into  her  very  life. 

"  '  Miss  Ada  !  Miss  Ada  !'  she  said,  '  I  see — 


178  THE  MUSGROVK  RANCH. 

I  see  !  God  has  given  me  everything.  O,  the 
wonder  and  the  beauty  of  it.  I  have  always 
felt  what  you  were  like — but  now  I  see  !  Ah, 
my  good  God  !  I  see  !' 

"  I  was  so  overcome,  Bruce,  that  she  had  to 
soothe  me  like  a  child.  I  never  can  forget  it, 
nor  the  feeling  it  gave  me  of  my  own  dullness 
and  ingratitude.  /  had  ahvays  possessed  the 
blessing  which  she  had  never  known  till  now, 
and  in  all  my  life  I  had  never  realized  it." 

There  was  a  tender  earnestness  in  Ada's 
manner,  a  depth  of  hidden  meaning  in  her 
little  story,  and  her  voice  trembled  as  she  re 
called  what  had  affected  her  so  deeply. 

Bruce  found  no  words  to  comment  on  it. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THEY  had  driven  on  and  on  until  the  sharp 
rocks  which  formed  the  entrance  to  the  Canon 
stood  out  boldly  from  the  mountain  back 
ground.  The  road  suddenly  became  rough 
and  encumbered  with  rocks  and  boulders,  and 
it  was  with  some  difficulty  that  they  proceed 
ed.  Just  as  Ada  began  to  wonder  how  they 
were  going  on,  they  turned  an  angle  in  the 
road  and  came  in  sight  of  a  rough  shanty,  built 
in  a  hollow  of  the  rock,  upon  a  sort  of  natural 
platform. 

"  There  is  the  Hawley  place,"  said  Bruce, 
pointing  to  it  with  his  whip,  "  that  Hugh  spoke 
of,  and,  after  all,  I  shall  probably  hav*  to  leave 
you  there.  They  are  decent  people,  though 
they  will  probably  seem  rough  to  you.  I  hope 
you  will  not  mind  waiting  there  till  I  come 
back." 

"  Oh  no,  of  course  not,  if  you  think  it  best, 
though,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  had  set  my  heart 
on  seeing  the  place  where  our  water  comes 
from." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  should  be  disappointed,  but 
179 


l8o  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

it  would  be  impossible,  I  think,  to  drive  further 
than  the  Hawleys.  You  can  judge  from  this 
what  the  road  would  be  like  farther  on.  From 
here  it  is  really  a  watercourse  in  the  heavy 
rains,  and  these  scattered  rocks  and  boulders 
that  you  see  have  been  carried  down  by  the 
force  of  the  water.  These  torrents  subside  as 
rapidly  as  they  grow,  and  this  particular  one 
was  the  overflow  from  our  reservoir,  which  is 
built  about  a  mile  up  the  Canon.  I  felt  a  little 
anxious  about  it  owing  to  the  suddenness  and 
force  of  the  rains  after  the  long  dry 'spell,  but 
it  must  be  all  right  or  the  road  from  this  on 
would  be  a  stream." 

Ada  listened  dutifully,  and  was  impressed  by 
the  facts  which  Bruce  imparted,  and  soon  they 
reached  the  foot  of  the  slope  on  which  the 
Hawley  glace,  as  it  was  called,  stood. 

In  answer  to  a  shout  from  Bruce,  two  long, 
lean  men,  roughly  clad  and  almost  as  brown 
as  Indians,  appeared  at  the  shanty  door  and 
came  down  the  slope. 

"  All  right,  boys  ?"  asked  Bruce.  "  Have  you 
been  up  the  flume  this  morning  ?  " 

"  We  was  just  going  to  start,"  one  of  the 
men  replied.  "  Mother  was  took  sick  last  night 
with  one  of  her  bad  spells,  and  we  couldn't  go 
betore." 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  1 8 1 

"  Poor  woman,  is  she  better  ?"  asked  Ada. 

"I guess  she'll  do  now,"  he  replied,  eyeing 
the  young  lady  curiously. 

"  Well,  one  of  you  can  stay  with  her,  now 
that  I  am  here.  Joe,  you  can  come  with  me, 
and  Bob  can  stay  and  look  after  Aleppo.  How 
is  the  road  ?  Do  you  think  this  young  lady 
could  walk  up  to  the  pit  ?" 

"Well,"  said  Joe,  who  seemed  spokesman, 
reflectively  chewing  his  tobacco — "well,  I 
guess,  if  she  ain't  afeared  of  wearing  out  her 
shoes,  she  can  come.  It's  pretty  rough,  though." 

Ada  laughed.  "  My  shoes  are  strong,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  should  dearly  like  to  try." 

"  You  shall  try,"  said  Bruce,  and  he  sprang 
down  from  the  buggy  and  lifted  his  cousin  out. 

Bob  was  left  in  charge  of  Aleppo,  and  the 
three  set  out  up  the  Canon. 

"Pretty  rough"  was  a  very  mild  expression, 
for  the  condition  of  the  road,  which  was  sim 
ply  no  road  at  all,  so  filled  up  was  it  with  rub 
ble  from  the  rocks,  not  to  speak  of  boulders 
and  sharp  fragments  of  a  much  larger  size. 

Ada  was  soon  strongly  tempted  to  desist, 
but  Bruce  was  so  patient  with  her  unsteady 
footsteps  and  altogether  so  encouraging,  that 
she  persevered,  and  after  a  little  became  more 
accustomed  to  the  difficulties  of  the  way. 


I  82  Tff'i  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

"You  will  make  quite  a  mountaineer,"  said 
Bruce,  glancing  at  the  sweet  face  with  an  un 
wonted  glow  upon  it;  "  there  is  everything  in 
being  accustomed  to  difficulties.  After  a  time 
they  grow  so  much  less  formidable  as  almost 
to  disappear." 

"  You  are  a  philosopher,  Bruce,"  she  an 
swered,  "  but  I  am  afraid  I  was  very  foolish  to 
encumber  you  with  my  helpless  person.  I 
could  not  walk  ten  yards  without  you." 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  could,"  he  said,  laugh 
ing,  "but  you  see  my  philosophy  includes  a 
willingness  to  be  encumbered  by  you,  if  you 
wish  to  use  the  term." 

Joe  was  some  twenty  yards  ahead  of  them, 
apparently  stumbling  and  sprawling,  but  in 
reality  balancing  himself,  with  the  skill  that 
comes  from  long  practice,  on  slanting  rocks 
and  rounding  boulders,  and  getting  on  with 
much  ease  and  comfort  to  his  ungainly  person. 

Ada  was  so  engrossed  with  trying  to  pick 
her  way  and  keep  her  footing  that  she  was  un 
able  t©  realize  the  savage  beauty  of  the  Canon 
sides,  which  grew  in  majesty  and  wildness  as 
the  way  wound  on  between  them.  It  seemed 
to  the  girl's  tired  feet  like  many  miles,  but  in 
reality  they  had  only  walked  one  when  Bruce 
told  her  to  look  up.  They  had  nearly  reached 


THE  MUSGKO  VE  RANCH.  \  8  -\ 

\J 

their  destination.  In  front  of  them  rose  a 
sheer  wall  of  rock  to  a  dizzy  height,  and  from 
its  summit  poured  a  stream  which  had  gathered 
among  the  upper  heights  of  the  mountains  and 
descended  from  slopes  and  ledges  till  it  reach 
ed  this  final  downfall.  Like  the  water-fall 
which  Ada  had  seen  in  the  other  canon,  it 
dashed  itself  into  foam  upon  the  rocks  before  it 
was  gathered  into  an  immense  reservoir,  in 
part  natural,  in  part  built  of  cemented  stones, 
which  was  exclusively  the  Musgrove  property 
and  the  direct  source  of  the  beauty  and  fruitful- 
ness  of  the  Musgrove  ranch.  Thither  the 
water  was  flumed  and  piped  down  the  Canon 
and  across  the  valley. 

To  a  person  unaccustomed  to  such  scenes, 
this  was  almost  overpowering.  The  vast 
height  of  the  precipice,  the  weird  and  sombre 
forms  of  the  mountains  rising  in  an  almost 
complete  circle  around  them,  the  huge  reser 
voir,  filled  to  overflowing  with  dark  water, 
combined  to  make  a  picture  which  photograph 
ed  itself  on  Ada's  brain.  She  shuddered 
slightly,  as  leaning  on  Bruce's  arm  she  gazed 
around  her. 

"  It  is  an  awful  picture,  is  it  not  ?"  he  said, 
looking  at  her  with  some  solicitude,  for  the 
flush  had  faded  from  her  face,  and  she  looked 
very  tired. 


184  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  almost  under  her 
breath,  "it  is  an  awful  picture.  Do  you  know, 
Bruce,  if  you  were  not  with  me,  I  think  I 
should  give  way  to  a  feeling  of  horror." 

"  But  you  would  not  be  here  without  me," 
he  said,  more  fondly  than  he  knew.  "Ada,  I 
am  sorry  I  let  you  come.  It  has  been  too  much 
for  you.  Hugh  was  right  ;  you  should  have 
remained  at  the  Hawleys  :  I  blame  myself." 

"  No,  no.  I  would  come.  I  did  so  want  to 
come.  If  there  is  any  one  to  blame  it  is  cer 
tainly  myself  alone." 

"  I  am  going  to  make  a  comfortable  seat  for 
you,  and  you  shall  rest  while  I  go  round  the 
reservoir  with  Joe.  It  is  necessary  to  look 
narrowly  at  the  wall  to  see  if  any  repairs  are 
needed.  It  looks  all  right  and  tight,  however." 

He  found  a  flat  stone  and  laid  it  across  two 
others,  where  she  could  rest  against  a  rock,  a 
little  below  the  reservoir,  and  when  he  had 
seen  her  comfortably  seated,  he  left  her,  saying 
that  he  would  not  lose  sight  of  her  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  that  she  need  have  no  fear  whatever 
of  rattlesnakes  so  soon  after  a  rain.  And  then 
he  followed  Joe,  who  was  still  balancing  his 
long  and  awkward  body  from  stone  to  stone  as 
he  began  the  circuit  of  the  reservoir. 

Ada  watched  the  two  men,  smiling  to  herself, 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  185 

though  she  had  not  yet  got  over  her  nervous 
uneasiness  at  the  strange  contrast  which  they 
represented — Joe,  loose-limbed  and  ungainly, 
Bruce,  tall,  erect,  and  firmly  knit,  yet  lithe  as 
only  one  accustomed  to  mountain  exercise  can 
be.  His  cousin  watched  him  almost  step  by 
step  as  he  walked  slowly  on,  skirting  the  edge 
of  the  dark  water  and  turning  again  and  again 
to  watch  her. 

It  was  such  a  relief,  after  that  terrible  mile, 
to  rest  her  tired  feet  and  to  lean  against  the 
rock,  that  after  a  time — it  was  really  only  a 
little  time — Bruce's  figure  seemed  to  grow  in 
distinct  and  the  shadows  of  the  projecting 
rocks  to  enfold  her  with  a  deep  cloud  of  dreams, 
and  then  she  sank  into  a  profound  slumber. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

A  STILLNESS  as  of  death  brooded  over  the 
place,  for  the  footsteps  of  the  two  men,  who 
had  now  reached  the  point  of  the  reservoir 
farthest  from  Ada,  had  long  ceased  to  be  au 
dible,  and  the  inflowing  water  from  the  upper 
rocks,  though  constant  and  copious,  was  with 
out  a  sound. 

How  long  she  had  rested  in  that  trance-like 
slumber  Ada  never  knew.  But  what  was 
this  which  wakened  her  with  a  start  of  un 
speakable  horror  ?  What  was  the  awful  sound 
which  tore  the  stillness  like  the  voice  of  many 
thunders  ? 

She  sprang,  or,  rather,  staggered  to  her  feet. 
What,  oh  what  was  THIS  rolling  towards  her 
in  awful,  unimaginable  force — the  very  image 
of  destruction  ! 

One  instant  she  stood,  while  with  the  despair 
of  a  young  life  brought  suddenly  face  to  face 
with  death,  a  piercing  cry  escaped  her  ;  then, 
lifting  her  eyes  and  hands  to  Heaven,  she  sent 
one  unuttered  prayer  to  the  Master  whom  she 
had  learned  to  serve  so  humbly  and  love  so  well. 

1 86 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  187 

The  rock  against  which  she  had  been  lean 
ing  was  broken  into  hollows  and  ledges,  of 
which  a  strong  climber  could  have  availed 
himself  without  much  difficulty  to  escape  the 
on  -  rushing  water,  but  Ada's  strength  was 
spent. 

Yet  she  turned  wildly,  and  standing  on  the 
seat  which  Bruce  had  made  for  her,  she  reach 
ed  upward  and  strove  with  a  supreme  effort  to 
gain  a  footing  on  a  narrow  ledge  somewhat 
above  her. 

Before  her  feet  had  touched  it,  however,  the 
water,  leaping  onward  like  an  enraged  lion, 
had  caught  the  slender  form,  lifting  it  for  a 
moment,  and  in  the  next  had  hidden  it  from 
sight. 

Bruce,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  reservoir, 
had  heard  the  awful  crash,  which  for  the  mo 
ment  stunned  him  with  its  appalling  noise. 
His  eyes  distended  with  horror  as  he  saw  his 
cousin's  position.  He  saw  her  rise  to  her  feet, 
saw,  even  as  he  rushed  madly  towards  the  spot, 
her  effort  at  escape ;  he  saw  the  awful  wave  that 
seemed  to  cast  itself  upon  her. 

His  brow  was  wet  with  the  dew  of  a  great 
agony,  as  he  realized  his  own  helplessness  in 
that  terrible  moment,  and  from  his  lips  came 
words  wrung  from  the  bitterness  of  his  soul. 


1 88  THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 

"  Save  her — my  God — save  her  !  " 

It  was  the  first  prayer  which  Bruce  had 
uttered  for  long  years.  It  was  the  instinctive 
cry  of  a  soul  naked  and  helpless  in  the  face  of 
its  dire  need. 

"  Save  her — my  God — save  her  !  "  that  was 
all. 

Leaping  from  stone  to  stone,  getting  over 
the  awful  intervening  space  he  knew  not  how, 
Bruce  reached  the  spot  to  find  that  the  tor 
rent  had  rolled  on  down  the  slope,  turning  the 
bottom  of  the  Canon  into  a  seething  river. 
With  despairing  eyes  he  looked  around  him 
and  before  him.  Had  the  flood  carried  Ada's 
body  down  among  the  dreadful  crags  and 
boulders  ? 

At  that  moment  he  would  have  given  atl  he 
possessed,  all  hope,  all  ambition,  all  success — 
everything  that  had  made  up  his  life,  nay,  life 
itself,  to  have  rescued  her. 

As  he  stood  there  in  his  helpless  wretched 
ness,  Joe,  his  rough-hewn  face  blanched  with 
horror,  came  up  to  him. 

"The  young  lady!"  he  gasped;  "what's 
come  of  her  ?  " 

Bruce  could  only  answer  with  a  groan. 

Wading  knee  deep  in  water,  they  reached 
the  spot  where  she  had  been  sitting.  Was  it 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH.  189 

— could  it  be  possible  that  the  water  had  lifted 
her  on  to  the  rocks  ! 

It  was  in  reality  only  the  edge  of  that  dread 
ful  wave  which  had  reached  Ada.  It  had  been 
more  than  sufficient,  however,  to  overcome 
her  feeble  strength,  and  to  cast  her  apparently 
lifeless  form  into  a  depression  of  the  rocks,  a 
projection  of  which  she  had  endeavored  to 
climb. 

As  Bruce  looked  wildly  around,  he  saw  a 
fragment  of  her  dress.  The  sight  of  it  drove 
the  blood  to  his  heart  with  a  fierce  throb  of 
fear  and  hope.  He  climbed  upon  a  slippery 
ledge,  and  looking  down,  saw  within  a  few 
yards  of  him  Ada's  seemingly  lifeless  body. 

In  a  moment  he  was  beside  her,  chafing  the 
cold  hands,  resting  the  wan  face  with  its  fast 
closed  eyes  upon  his  breast,  calling  upon  her 
with  a  passionate  tenderness  to  speak  to  him 
once  more. 

Bruce's  prayer  was  answered,  though  from 
lips  so  long  prayerless,  for  God  is  truly  a  mer 
ciful  and  loving  Father;  and  when  at  last,  with 
a  long,  shuddering  sigh,  Ada's  eyes  unclosed 
and  met  her  cousin's  with  a  look  of  wonder 
first,  then  with  a  dreadful  remembrance,  at 
last  with  tender  recognition,  Bruce's  heart, 
moved  to  its  depth,  was  smitten  through  and 


190 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


through  with  a  consciousness  of  God's  mercy 
and  his  own  unworthiness. 

"  Did  you  save  me,  Bruce  ? "  whispered  Ad  . 
in  that  first  sweet  moment  of  restored  life, 
looking  into  her  cousin's  face. 

"  No,  dear,  no,  not  I — but  the  God  whom  I 
disowned  and  denied.  He  saved  you  !  " 

Ada  closed  her  eyes  again,  and  her  lips 
moved  in  words  that  Bruce  could  not  hear, 
and  yet  whose  import  he  knew. 

Yes,  Ada  was  saved,  as  by  a  miracle,  but 
she  was  chilled  and  exhausted,  and  it  was  a 
painful  problem  how  they  were  to  get  back  to 
the  mouth  of  the  Canon. 

But  here  Joe's  experience  stood  them  in 
good  stead.  He  knew  a  way — it  was  indeed  a 
very  difficult  one;  even  Joe  owned  to  its  being 
pretty  hard  to  travel — by  which  they  could 
reach  the  place  whence  they  had  started. 
Bruce  wrapped  his  coat  about  Ada,  and  half 
supported,  half  carried,  her  along  a  path  which 
only  a  strong-headed  and  enduring  person 
could  have  traveled  unassisted. 

And  at  last,  at  last,  they  reached  the  "  Haw- 
ley  place  "  to  find  the  old  woman  and  Bob  in 
a  state  of  excitement  and  dismay,  for  the 
sudden  rush  of  water  along  the  Canon  bottom 
had  told  only  too  plainly  what  had  occurred, 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


and  their  fears  for  the  safety  of  the  party  had 
been  of  the  gravest.  Their  rejoicing  was  pro 
portionately  great  when  the  three  returned. 
Ada  was,  however,  terribly  exhausted,  and  had 
to  rest  for  hours  after  being  furnished  with  dry 
garments  by  the.old  woman,  before  the  journey 
back  to  the  ranch  could  be  attempted. 

At  the  ranch,  too,  great  was  the  anxiety  at 
the  protracted  absence  of  the  cousins.  Hugh 
at  length  set  out  to  discover  the  cause  of  the 
delay,  feeling  far  more  uneasy  than  he  had 
allowed  his  mother  or  Nettie  to  suspect. 

Half-way  to  the  Canon  mouth,  he  met  them, 
Aleppo  traveling  homeward  with  a  speed 
which  betrayed  Bruce's  eager  anxiety  to  reach 
the  ranch  as  speedily  as  possible. 

The  words  of  explanation  were  few,  and  it 
was  not  until  hours  afterwards  that  the  others 
knew  the  extent  of  the  peril  through  which 
Ada  had  passed. 

My  tale  of  the  Musgrove  Ranch  is  nearly 
ended.  Those  who  have  followed  with  a 
kindly  interest  my  simple  story  will  be  glad 
to  know  that  Bruce  Musgrove,  from  that  dread 
ful  moment  when  he  felt  himself  utterly  power 
less  to  avert  so  terrible  a  calamity,  and  threw 
himself  with  an  instinct  of  faith  upon  the  mercy 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


of  God,  never  relapsed  into  a  condition  of  mind 
which  was  so  unworthy  of  his  strong  and  noble 
nature. 

And  thus,  when,  after  weeks  of  suffering, 
caused  by  the  exposure  of  that  terrible  day, 
Ada  was  well  enough  to  hear  the  story  which 
Bruce's  heart"  had  so  long  prompted  him  to 
tell,  there  was  no  reason  why  she  should 
not  admit  that  her  whole  heart  was  indeed 
bound  up  in  the  dear  Musgrove  Ranch,  but 
more  particularly  in  him  who  had  made  it 
what  it  was. 

We  need  not  feel  any  special  sympathy  with 
Miss  Crofton,  who  was  not  long  in  consoling 
herself  for  Bruce's  failure  to  appreciate  her 
attractions,  and  even  condescended  to  be  a 
guest  at  the  wedding  —  a  wedding  which  was 
almost  the  happiest  day  in  the  life  of  the  faith 
ful  missionary  at  Caliente  ;  for  Bruce  Mus 
grove,  who,  like  the  California  climate,  did 
nothing  by  halves,  had  long  since  admitted 
his  injustice  and  arrogance  to  so  brave  and 
patient  a  person,  and  had  become  his  staunch- 
est  friend  and  supporter. 

There  was  no  likelihood  that  in  the  future, 
within  the  reach  of  Bruce  Musgrove's  influence 
and  example,  there  would  be  clergy  wretchedly 
housed  and  living  on  a  pittance,  or  whose  ear- 


THE  MUSGROVE  RANCH. 


193 


nest  and  self-denying  labors  would  be  held  in 
contempt. 

Mrs.  Ashleigh,  not  quite  so  frail,  and  so  much 
happier  than  of  old,  was  specially  so  in  the 
happiness  of  the  girl  who  had  been  the  direct 
cause,  by  God's  blessing,  of  the  new  and 
brighter  era  which  had  opened  for  the  Church 
in  that  favored  region. 

And  as  for  Hugh  and  Nettie  and  dear  Mrs. 
Musgrove,  it  was  to  one  and  all  a  day  of  great 
rejoicing,  for  now  it  was  a  settled  fact  that  she 
whom  they  had  learned  to  love  so  well  was 
permanently  to  have  her  home  at  the  Mus 
grove  Ranch. 

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STORIES  TO  BE  HAD  AT  ALL  THE  LIBRARIES. 

VII. 

OLDHAM  ;  or,  Beside  all  Waters.  By  LUCY 
ELLEN  GUERNSEY.  i2mo,  cloth.  Illustrated.  $1.50. 

"  The  story  is  uncommonly  pretty,  and  winningly  told ;  and  it  is 
full  of  timely  hints  to  summer  visitors,  with  reference  to  the  good 
they  may  do  while  staying  in  the  country."  -  -  The  Times. 

VIII. 

THE  HOME  OF  FIESOLE.  A  Story  of  the  Times 
of  Savonarola.  i2mo,  cloth.  Illustrated.  $1.25. 

"  It  is  an  intensely  interesting  story  of  Savonarola  and  his  times, 
which  it  would  profit  any  one  to  read." —  Sunday  Gazette  (Akron,  O.). 

"  Skilfully  wrought,  and  full  of  beauty  and  historic  interest." —  The 
New-  York  Observer. 

IX. 

HEROES  OF  ANCIENT  GREECE.  A  Story  of 
the  Days  of  Socrates  the  Athenian.  By  ELLEN  PALMER. 
1 2 mo,  cloth.  Illustrated.  $1.25. 

"  A  pleasant  love  story  of  the  Peloponnesian  War.  The  social" 
and  political  manners  of  Athens  and  Sparta  are  well  depicted.  There 
is  a  little  of  Herodotus,  something  of  Thucydides  and  Xenophon,  a 
touch  of  Greek  religion,  philosophy,  and  Socrates."  —  The  Literary 
World. 


A    POPULAR    SERIES. 

"  Mr.  Thomas  Whittaker  is  publishing  a  '  Half-Hour  Library  of 
Travel,  Nature,  and  Science.'  It  is  handsomely  gotten  up  and  illus 
trated.  Among  the  volumes  are  '  Half-Hours  in  Field  and  Forest,' 
and  '  Half-Hours  with  a  Naturalist,'  by  the  Rev.  J.  G.  Wood;  '  Half- 
Hours  in  the  Holy  Land,'  by  Norman  Macleod,  etc.  It  is  a  most 
interesting  series,  and  is  especially  adapted  to  young  people.  It  will 
give  them  both  pleasure  and  profit."  —  The  Press. 

HALF -HOURS  WITH  A  NATURALIST.  Rambles 
near  the  Shore.  By  Rev.  J.  G.  WOOD,  M.A.  Over  100  fine 
woodcuts.  121110.  $1.50. 

HALF-HOURS  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST.  Chapters 
in  Natural  History.  By  Rev.  J.  G.  WOOD,  M.A.  Over  100 
fine  woodcuts.  i2mo.  $1.50. 

HALF-HOURS    IN     THE     HOLY    LAND.       Travels    in 

Egypt,  Palestine,  and  Syria.      By  NORMAN  MACLEOD,  D.B. 
Over  100  fine  woodcuts.     I2mo.     $1.50. 


New  York :  THOMAS  WHITTAKER.  2  and  3  Bible  House. 


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